Stones

I've neglected this for a long while now.  I could offer a thousand excuses, but they are just that, excuses.  They would all be true, but excuses nonetheless.  I created a new blog to post Emily's cooking lessons on (http://emilycooks1015.blogspot.ca/) and it seems lately that is about all I have written.  And even those posts have been a struggle.
I confess I battled a lot of fear and doubt, and I was afraid to give them any acknowledgement at all lest even speaking their names would give them power.  At long last though I found employment again (you'd think being unemployed I would have had written all the more with all that free time, but no, not I) I have been so blessed to have good friends to stand by me through the storms life sometimes leads us through, friends who reminded me when I wondered if perhaps I was being an ostrich with my head in the sand, that there was much grace on me and on my situation.  I knew the axe was going to fall, but I knew too there was a better job, better suited to my needs and my gifts.  I had faith God would sustain me through it, and provide abundantly.  And provide he did.
I took a temporary job with Elections Canada in the weeks leading up to the election in October.  I met some lovely people and remembered the rhythm of working.  It provided an opportunity to test Emily on coming home from school to an empty house, a milestone for us both.  And as that job drew to a close I had an interview that led to a job offer I know will be a great fit.  In any case my prayers have been answered.  A good job with variety to the days, hours that will suit Emily and me well.  I am excited and hopeful.
In the midst of these past couple of weeks I have been remembering a pair of small stones I used to keep in my pocket years ago, stones I picked up somewhere on the west coast on a lonely, frustrated walk I took while visiting my ex-husband's parents.  I think I still have them, tucked away in my jewelry box. Of course this remembrance was borne from some other thought in my head....I don't even recall it any more, my thoughts tend to wander and drift and weave themselves together in odd ways.  Thoughts about the journey I have found myself on this past year, and the roads I would like to take, no doubt lines or phrases from sermons or songs.  I've been asked before about my creative process, and it is not something I can answer easily, or concisely.  And all that leads me to offer you, gentle, patient reader, this:

I have walked dusty

rutted

gravel roads

Have strode

ankle deep through

warm, black

sifting

summer-fallow

Have stood upon

windswept, timeworn

mountain peaks

In my pockets

have held

smooth,oddly lovely

riverstones

set fieldstones on fence posts

Under my tongue

one small

smooth

stone

brings water to a parched soul

Like people in glass houses

not sinless

I have learned

to hold those stones

knowing too well

the hurt

But those same stones

have power to heal -

to build monuments

to honour

to defend and secure

And though sand sifts

restless

my feet are fixed

firm

on bedrock

pocketed riverstones

like gems

keep me steady

keep me sure.

Mother

It is almost midnight and I find I cannot sleep.  This is becoming an all to regular occurrence of late.  Usually I toss & turn & listen to the radio, eventually lulled to sleep.  Tonight I thought I'd try a different tack.  I've been trying to write the following poem for a couple of months now, and after many false starts and much stalling I think, maybe, I almost have it. (Are there writers out there who are ever fully satisfied with the work they produce?  Is it ever well and truly finished?  Or do you just have to call it good and move on to the next project?)
In any case, tomorrow we are heading to my home town to celebrate my mother's 70th birthday.  These last few have been difficult years, but we are all still here, still standing, still moving forward.  It is my prayer we will celebrate many more birthdays together.  Happy Birthday, Mom, I love you.
Thank you for everything you are & for everything you have done for me.

There is a picture

tucked away in a dusty album

fading with the years

my mother and me...

There is love implicit in the photograph

Smiling, she leans in toward me

a story book on my knees

a halo of babycurls and footie pajamas

I am on her knee...

she is looking at me, her hand on my shoulder

but my gaze is drawn somewhere else

There is love implicit in the photograph

and though memory had me perched on her knee

as though eager to go

Too soon I think I bounded from her embrace

eager for whatever held my gaze even then.

Life and living; newer more enticing loves

it is not so

Her hands shield me though her arms do not hold me back

And yet

though you cannot see them

then or now

there are cords that bind my heart to hers,

the first love I ever knew,

and for all my pulling away they hold us close

I wish, more often now than ever,

I could take my story book

and, fresh from my bath in pyjamas,

clamber into her lap

Or, as time slowly turns the tables

take her in my embrace and hold her close

There is love implicit in the photograph

and though memory had me perched on her knee

as though eager to go

it is not so

Her hands shield me though her arms do not hold me back

Her lap cradles me

Her eyes watch me

Her love surrounds me

Cooking with Emily: Ginger Beef Sti-Fry

We are slowly moving toward back to school and the steady routine of school days.  I think we are both longing for the return to normalcy, whatever normal looks like, and yet will miss these long lazy days too.  Monday night was girl's night out with one of my circles of girlfriends, so Emily's cooking night was pushed back a couple of days.  I decided to let her stay home alone while I went out, since our evening out was only going to be a few blocks away.  It  was a test of sorts, since she has been asking me for over a year if she could come home alone after school.  She called at the times I requested, had her chores done and had showered & combed her hair.  I was pleased, and needless to say she passed the test.
We decided Wednesday was the only day this week she had to make dinner, and Tuesday afternoon she asked if I had a recipe for Ginger Beef, one of her favourite dishes at the Chinese buffet.  I told her it wouldn't be like the restaurant version and pointed her toward a couple of recipes i had in a folder full of recipes I wanted to try.  She chose one, and a quick scan confirmed it was something she could handle.
Emily spent Wednesday afternoon at the pool, and by quarter to five I was debating starting supper myself.  She did get home shortly after that, and while she changed I sliced a couple of small sirloin tip steaks into strips and sliced a couple of carrots for her.  She insisted I leave the kitchen then, and so I retreated.
She coated the strips of steak in a batter of cornstarch and water before placing them in hot oil.  Before long I was called to the rescue, the spattering oil had her hesitating.  I can't blame her, cooking with oil that spits and spatters isn't much fun.  I helped her brown the meat and set it aside while she sauteed the carrots, made her sauce and started a pot of rice.  Once the sauce of broth, soy sauce, ginger and orange peel was poured over the carrots she returned the steak to the pan.  The sauce thickened quickly so I advised her to shut it off while the rice finished cooking.  Emily had tasted a piece of meat while the carrots were cooking and was not impressed with the flavour, although there were no seasonings on it apart from a little salt in the batter.  As a whole though dinner was very tasty, although I suspect she mismeasured the water for the rice as it was slightly under cooked.  The sauce could have used a touch more ginger as it lacked a certain kick as well.  Then again we used chicken stock instead of beef, as there was a carton open in the refrigerator.  Beef broth may have had more body.  A pinch of red pepper flakes may have helped a little too.

Ginger Beef Stir-Fry

3 Tablespoons corn starch, divided               3/4 cup thinly sliced carrots

2 tablespoons water                                       3/4 cup beef broth

1/4 teaspoon salt                                            2 tablespoons soy sauce

1 1/2 lbs top sirloin steak, thinly sliced in 3' strips

2 teaspoons orange peel                                 1 teaspoon ground ginger

In a large bowl combine 2 tablespoons cornstarch with water & salt until smooth.  Add beef, toss to coat.

In a large skillet stir fry beef in small batches in 1 tablespoon vegetable oil until meat reaches desired doneness; remove and keep warm.

Stir fry carrots in another tablespoon of oil for 5-6 minutes.  Place remaining cornstarch in a bowl, stir in broth until smooth.  Add ginger, soy sauce and orange peel.  Return beef to skillet, stir in broth mixture.  Bring to a boil.  Cook and stir 2 minutes, until thickened.  Serve over rice, egg noodles or mashed potatoes.

Cooking with Emily: Penne with Three Cheeses

I'm afraid my little chef's tastes have grown expensive.  Expansive too, or getting there, anyway.  Parents with fussy eaters, get them cooking, they may be more willing to try things they would have turned their noses up at before.  I was myself a picky eater, although my self imposed rules only made sense to me, and all of my children were to some degree fussy too...and we have all (mostly) out grown it.  In the past Emily, while loving any dish with cheese in it or on it, has turned her nose up at most cheeses served simply on a cheese plate.  Cheese, sausage & crackers are, on occasion served as supper here, or as a part of supper that is just soup.  Tuesday night supper is our name for this meal, regardless of the night it is served (or if it makes an appearance as lunch)
In any case, Sunday night I set Emily to deciding what she was making for supper on Monday.  She unearthed the same cookbook she used last week and started reading.  We have had a few cooler days after several that were very warm, so she asked about using the oven, since, as a rule I opt to not use it for fear of heating up an already warm house through most of the summer months.  Deciding it would be okay to bake something she settled on this recipe.  It did call for porcini mushrooms, but neither of us care for them, so I determined we could alter the recipe and do without them.  But three cheeses, none of which were the staple Cheddar, meant this would be a more pricey dish.
I did a little quick research since I had never seen Fontina in our local store to see what it might be compared to, and what might make an adequate substitute.  Gouda was suggested, a lovely mild cheese I enjoy, so we wouldn't have anything wasted.  I indulged in a small block of dill Havarti too, just because, along with the required ricotta and Parmensan (I thought for this dish we would grate some fresh ourselves rather than use the jarred stuff I usually have in the fridge)  She sampled all of the cheese as I diced and grated, except for the ricotta, and decided she like them all.  A huge leap forward from Cheddar.
While Emily was off swimming I prepared a bowl of fresh snow peas from the farmer's market and cut the small bison tenderloin I had thawed into cubes for skewers,  Once she arrived home I continued acting as sous chef to speed her along, mincing an onion, shredding and cubing cheeses.
She started water boiling to cook her pasta and melted butter to brown the onion.  We had some debate over the next steps, as I had altered the recipe to accommodate the omission of dried porcini mushrooms in my head, but not on paper for her.  Once she understood, she sprinkled flour over the onions, whisking in chicken stock and milk, nutmeg and salt & pepper.  I cut some fresh thyme in the garden and showed her how to remove the leaves from the stalks, telling her to add the fresh herbs later in the recipe so as not to overcook them and spoil the flavours.  Next she stirred in the cooked pasta and the cheeses.  She balked when I told her to pour the pasta into the sauce, not the sauce over the pasta, as the recipe indicated, but I explained the sauce was in the larger pot, so it would be easier to stir.
Once the sauce had thickened slightly, and we added a little more pasta, quickly cooked, as the initial batch of noodle looked scant, I helped her pour the mixture into a baking dish.  We topped it with a little shredded Asiago cheese, making this now a Four Cheese Penne, and Emily put it in the oven to bake for 30 minutes, while I steamed the peas and put the bison skewers on the barbecue.
The pasta was lovely; rich and creamy, the snow peas crisp and green, a nice foil for the richness of the pasta.  The bison was done miraculously perfectly too as I discovered my propane had run out during the cooking.

 Penne With Three Cheeses

1 package penne rigate or ziti pasta (16 oz/3 cups)   3 tablespoons flour

1 cup water*                                                             2 1/2 cups milk

1 cup dried porcini mushrooms                                1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

2 tablespoons butter                                                   salt & pepper

1 onion, finely chopped                                            4 ounces Fontina  cheese, cubed**

1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves, chopped                   1 cup ricotta cheese

1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Cook pasta for 2 minutes less than the package directs, drain and set aside

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375F.  In a microwave safe measuring cup heat water  1 1/2 -2 minutes, until boiling.  Stir in mushrooms, let stand 15 minutes.  With a slotted spoon remove mushrooms, rinse and chop.  Set aside, reserving liquid after straining.

Melt butter over medium heat in a large sauce pan.  Add onion and cook until tender & lightly browned, 8-9 minutes.  Stir in porcini and thyme.  Sprinkle with flour, cook 1 minute.  Whisk in milk, mushroom liquid, salt, pepper and nutmeg.  Heat to boiling, cook 2-3 minutes until thickened slightly, stirring frequently.

Add sauce to pasta, stir in Fontina, ricotta and 1/2 cup Parmesan.  Spoon into a 3 quart casserol, sprinkle with remaining Parmesan***.  Bake 30 minutes, until heated through and top is golden

*Because we omitted the mushrooms we substituted 3/4 cup of chicken stock instead

**Fontina was not available in our local grocery, we substituted Gouda instead (Provolone and Gruyere would also work)

*** Emily mis-read the recipe and stirred the full cup of Parmesan into the sauce.  It was fine, and we topped the dish with Asiago instead

Cooking with Emily: Spicy Beef with Couscous

And now we're back.
It has been almost a month since my last Cooking with Emily post.  She spent the last 2 weeks of July with her grandparents & two of her cousins taking swimming lessons, sight seeing and just being a kid.  She passed her level 4 swimming and had a great time, despite a few minor bouts of homesickness and one nasty tumble off her bike (no more damage than some road rash, but she milked it for all it was worth!)  She did do some cooking at Grandma's. she and her cousin made a shrimp dish with cheddar biscuits one night, and she helped me make fish tacos one evening when I was there for supper.
She was home for a day and a half before she was off to camp for a week, something she looks forward to each year.  As always we were scarcely on the road for home the following Friday and she was initiating a conversation about which camp she would like to attend next year.  I'm pleased she loves it so, if still a little surprised, since my own experiences with sleep away camp were not so delightful.  It was nothing torture for painfully shy child who wanted nothing more than to be let alone with her book and her thoughts.  In any case, it only proves how different we really are.
We are slowly returning to routine and some semblance of normalcy.  Monday morning Emily dove into the cookbooks to find something to make for supper.  Her first choice was bison ribs, which I vetoed, not only because we have no bison ribs (and I didn't want to buy beef ribs) but, much as she likes ribs the last couple of times we've made them she has not eaten them.
Some pouting and several pages later she found a recipe for Spicy Beef with Couscous.  It appeared easy enough, although I did have some trepidation, because she has generally rejected curry seasoned dishes as "tasting funny" (although she will inhale Butter Chicken and other Indian dishes-go figure.)
I made a quick trip to the grocery store (so much for not shopping again) for squash and to bolster our store of couscous.  I checked the internet for a recipe for Garam Masala, and yes, I did have all the needed spices, it was a quick mix in the kitchen.
After a trip back to camp for a bag of forgotten clothing - I really do need to teach the child how to pack- we had a couple of hours to relax, or in my case, fold laundry, before starting supper.  At four I thought I would do a little prep work for Emily, chopping the onion, peeling and dicing the squash and mincing the ginger & garlic.  She insisted she could indeed chop the onion, and did (nothing like pride to get things done) with only one distressed trip to the sink to rinse her hands in an attempt to stave off the tears.  She fretted that "real" cooks don't cry chopping onions, a thought I wasted no time in disabusing her of.  We had rinsed the onion well in cold water, which does help, but her height has her much nearer the cutting board, and her inexperience probably still has her pushing her glasses up with her hands-which just doesn't mix well with chopping onions.
I peeled and diced half a butternut squash for her, and minced a small piece of fresh ginger, then left her to cook.  She browned the onion in a little oil then she stirred in the ginger, garlic and the spices I had measured out for her, then added a package of ground bison.    She browned the meat before adding the squash, along with some frozen peas and chicken stock.  I suggested she cover the pan for a while and lower the heat, giving the squash a little more time to cook, and prepare her couscous when it was almost tender, as couscous takes barely 5 minutes to cook.  The aroma in the kitchen was delightful, rich and spicy, I found I was really looking forward to tasting this dish.  Often what she prepares are things I have made before, so the anticipation is quite different.
She balked a little about adding raisins to the couscous since she doesn't like them, but I told her the sweetness was a nice compliment to the spicy flavour of the meat.  As we were serving ourselves she asked if curry was spicy.  I told her that some are, but the curry powder we had used was quite mild.  I had to laugh to myself as she complained that she LIKED spicy food, and wanted spicy.  That's my girl!
Dinner was very good, just the right blend of spice, despite Emily's protestations.  She added soy sauce to her couscous and picked out the raisins...no accounting for taste still.  She tried the squash, and declared it tasted like carrots.  Not quite, but I do think carrots could be substituted for squash if necessary.

Spicy Beef with Couscous

1 Tablespoon vegetable oil                         1/2 teaspoon salt

1 onion, chopped                                         1 small yellow summer squash, cut into 1/2" chunks

2 garlic cloves, minced                               1 cup chicken broth

1 teaspoon minced fresh ginger                  1 cup frozen peas

1 pound lean ground beef                           1/2 cup loosely packed fresh cilantro, chopped*

1 tablespoon curry powder                         1 cup plain couscous

1 teaspoon Garam Masala spice mix**      1/2 cup golden raisins

In a large skillet heat oil and cook onion until golden brown, about 3 minutes.  Stir in garlic and ginger, cook another minute.

Stir in ground beef and cook, breaking up meat, until meat is no longer pink.  Stir in curry powder, garam masala and salt, cook 30 seconds.  Add squash and cook 2 minutes.

Stir in broth and peas, cook until slightly thickened and flavours blend.  You may need to reduce the heat, cover and allow the squash to cook through at this point.  We used a butternut squash that took about 10 minutes to become tender.  

Stir in cilantro.

Meanwhile prepare couscous as the label directs, but add the raisins with the water.  Fluff couscous with a fork and serve with the beef mixture.

*I am not fond of cilantro and would have eliminated it altogether, but this dismayed my rule following protege, so I chopped up about a 1/4 cup of fresh parsley instead

** Rather than purchase another bottle of expensive spice, knowing I had the various components already in the pantry I made my own Garam Masala as follows:

Combine: 1 tablespoon ground cumin                           1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

                  1 1/2 teaspoons ground coriander                 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

                 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cardamom               1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

                 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

                                                     Store in a sealed container

The Wedding Guest

In Peacock finery

though in her mirror sees

a ragged,limping amputee'

the Wedding Guest takes her place-

The wine  vinegar on her tongue

the feast, ashes

lifting a glass to toast

 a smile

never reaching her eyes

No happiness, no joy begrudged

Remembering her own Once upon a time;

forever promises in a kiss

Waiting in Peacock finery

breathing air perfumed in love & hope

lungs burning

Waiting

The Midnight hour chimes

She flees

 sedately from the ball

The Bridegroom, heart aching

knows her pain,

sees her flight

Charges his Best Man

with pursuit,

wanting none to miss the dance

On the stairs the Wedding Guest

pauses,

 looks back,

heart pounding, heart aching

vision blurred with sorrow and regret

She turns 

resuming flight

Startled by a tender touch on her shoulder

looks into welcoming eyes

as the Best Man takes her hand

Draws near to dance.

It is a strange thing to be caught between enjoying one's solitude and longing to be partnered for the Dance, and yet this is where I so often find myself, this no man's land between alone and lonely.

I have been working on this piece for over a month now, but it occurred to me just this morning that more than once in my life I have attended a dance and only just before the last song was played did someone come and invite me to dance.  And this is where I find myself now, longing to join the celebration, but uncomfortable with where, or if, I belong.

I am not married, and yet not single, I have children, but often they are not with me.  I dislike the term "middle aged" because I still feel so very young, but the calendar says otherwise.  And yet, as I talk to my friends who are willing to be honest, they too find themselves in some weird in between-ness.  Maybe it's because we are all on a journey, and none of us have reached our destination, maybe we find ourselves ever between heaven and earth, longing for that which is to come.

This is why I need to remind myself that while always looking backward will cause me to stumble, sometimes stopping to see the vista and recognize how far I have come, to remind myself that though progress seems small it is greater than I realize.

I am not alone, I have a great deal of love in my life.  I am surer of my path, of who I am and what I want and need.  I can laugh and cry more easily, I don't get caught so long now in the brambles and stumbling blocks in my way.  Things may not be as my heart longs for them to be, or as I envisioned them, but life is good, it is very good.

Home Alone

It has been a odd week.  It's funny, when you have all this time on your hands how grand your plans get, and how little you really accomplish....or is it just me?
Emily spent the weekend with her dad, nothing unusual there.  We did a little shopping before I dropped her off, got her a new swim suit in anticipation of the coming weeks' swimming lessons and a few things for back to school.  It was fun.  She is becoming a more pleasant companion all the time.
Sunday afternoon I picked her up and took her to her grandmother's where she will be spending the next two weeks, spending time with her cousins and her grandparents and taking swimming lessons.
From all reports thus far she is having a great time with lots of adventures.
It occurred to me sometime Saturday this is probably the longest we have ever been apart.  It gave me pause.  As an infant and toddler was quite literally attached to me like a cockle bur, I couldn't go to the bathroom without her, or without listening to her howl outside the door.  Dropping her off at daycare was terrible for several years, although as soon as I left she was fine.  And even though she couldn't tell time the tears of woe and feared abandonment started around 5 pm.  I was a little worried about leaving her at kindergarten that warm fall morning six years ago....but she waved goodbye to me and joined her new classmates with scarcely a second look.
There have been overnight visits at the babysitter's because I have a late night planned, and until very recently these were met tearfully too.  Eventually overnights with her dad became a part of the routine too, although these were met with no angst.  I suppose she is growing up.

I confess the house seems very empty and quiet.  She has already been away a lot this summer, off at the pool and spending time with her friends.  I knew the day would come when she would begin to step away from me.  She assures me she plans to live with me forever....and when she does I have to laugh, telling her she will fall in love and want a home and family all her own, and that that's OK, it is how it should be.
Her brothers have long since flown the nest, but I miss them still.  I am proud of them, pleased they are living their lives on their own terms, doing things that make them happy.  They know, as Emily will, when the day comes, I will always be here, ready to welcome them home.

Emily called home last night, as she has been since arriving at Grandma's.  She sounded happy, with lots of stories about their adventures, including making supper with her cousin, Connor.  She told me that because she gets to cook the main dish all the time she let him make the shrimp lo mein, while she made the garlic cheddar biscuits.  When I spoke to Mom later she told me they had done well, although she was surprised Emily didn't know how to make biscuits, since that should be a beginner lesson.  (There's that word again, "should".  It haunts me!)  She is right, but I rarely make biscuits because I really like them, and I have let Emily choose her menu from the start of our cooking project.
A couple of hours later I received a rather mournful sounding email, my little girl was homesick.  I replied with encouraging words, and the assurance the feeling would pass when she wasn't tired.  I am sure though she will be happy to sleep in her own bed in a couple weeks' time.  Nothing like being away to make you appreciate home.
I am reverting even more strongly to my hermit like habits.  Even my equally introverted boyfriend is teasing me about my retreat from the world.  I've been struggling a lot lately, this alone time has allowed for a good deal more introspection, although I'm not sure that is necessarily a good thing!
Some days I am sure there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and others I think that light just may be an oncoming train.  All I can do is wait and have faith in my Father and his promises to me

Cooking with Emily: Cheese Filled Burgers

It's hard to believe July is half over already.  Summer is rushing by, and yet Emily asked me one evening this past weekend how many more days until school started.  I did the calculations (about 52, give or take).  She groaned and fell back onto the living room floor, exclaiming it was too long.  I laughed at her and reminded her she still had 2 weeks with her grandparents & cousins in the offing, plus sleep away camp and drama camp, which takes us into the middle of August.  She then reminded herself she could go swimming every day too.  I think it's the routine she misses, but I admit I am pleased she enjoys school, whatever the reason; the routine, the socializing or the learning.  I think there is some excitement about starting Junior High too.  Yesterday she & one of her friends met at the school yard, ostensibly to "get used to the junior high side".

Monday  morning, after a little prodding, Emily found a recipe for cheese filled burgers.  It is something she has talked about making several times, but thought she could just invent.  I have tried this (not this recipe though) and not had great success.  It is not impossible, but a little fussy.  But she found a recipe and it looked remarkably simple, so I dug out a package of ground bison and some ground pork from the deep freeze....because bison is so lean adding a fattier meat to it makes a juicer burger, and as there were no other binding ingredients in the recipe it seemed like a good idea.

I went to the store later in the morning for hamburger buns, and although I picked up the ingredients for oriental noodle salad on the way home I decided what I wanted as a side was in fact broccoli salad.  While Emily was off with her friend I put the salad together so it had time to marinate & chill and then went back outside with my book.
I came back in just before 5 with a basketful of line dried laundry.  I debated starting supper on my own, letting my mini chef cook another night, but she wheeled in just before I made up my mind.
While she mixed the meat together with a little seasoning salt I sliced some cheese for her (since I never buy cheese slices as called for in the recipe).  I showed her how to make the patties, explaining they needed to be thin, then placed cheese on one, topped it with a second patty and worked the edges together to create a seal.  While she continued I made a quick fruit salad of nectarines, plums and cherries as a second side, and laid the griddle on the barbecue.
She had made her patties on the small side, so she wound up with eight burgers instead of four. Still they turned out very well.   As she was making the burgers she told me that one good thing was once she learned something she would know how to do it again.  Very astute, my girl is.  Some days she even believes I know what I'm talking about.
While the burgers were on the grill we perused the local movie showtimes, she thought we needed to go see a film, since it had been a while.  I suppose it had.  We opted for "Me, Earl and the Dying Girl" and invited my sister to join us.  It was a beautiful movie, if heart-wrenching.  I'm not sure Emily understood all of it, but she enjoyed it.  I would recommend it highly.

Cheese Filled Burgers

1 1/2 pounds ground beef

1 teaspoon seasoned salt

medium Cheddar, sliced

Mix ground beef and salt, divide into 8 equal patties.  Spread cheese on four patties, top with another patty, press edges to seal.  Cook on a medium high grill, about 10 minutes per side.

Serve on toasted buns with your favourite condiments.

* I would season the meat more, with ground pepper, fresh garlic, perhaps even a little cayenne.

The original recipe also called for a teaspoon of sweet pickle relish to be spread in the middle of each burger with the cheese.  As we don't care for relish we omitted it.  Admittedly this would certainly enhance the flavour.  I think salsa might be an interesting option as well.

Broccoli Salad

2-3 broccoli crowns                              1/2 cup mayonnaise

10 slices bacon                                      2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

1/3 cup diced red onion                       2 teaspoons sugar

1/3 cup sunflower seeds                       salt & pepper

1/3 cup dried cranberries or raisins

Chop broccoli into small florets.  Fry bacon until crisp and crumble (or cut into small pieces and fry until crispy).  Drain & cool.

Toss together broccoli, onion, sunflower seeds (I toasted mine a little) and cranberries/raisins & bacon

Mix together mayonnaise, vinegar, sugar and salt & pepper.  Pour over vegetables, toss and chill at least one hour.

Restless

I have something of a confession to make.  I have been struck, or perhaps stuck, with a deep ennui of late.  I am absolutely enjoying the summer heat, lazy days of reading that remind me very much of my idle teen years.  But I am struggling too with a certain purposelessness.  It stems from a lot of things, not the least of which is being still unemployed.  It is alarming, and I can feel my years creeping up on me.  And Peter has been away for what feels like an eternity.  Add to this several other relationships I suspect are in a state of flux and I feel like my feet are stuck in wet cement. There have been days I have described it as being restless-I pace from one task or pastime to another unable to focus on any one thing.  I'm frustrated, I'm lonely, I'm tired, no, weary, not tired.  This not where I thought I would be at this juncture of my life.  

Yesterday though, as I was going about my morning routine it occurred to me that I am not restless at all.  I am, in fact rest-less.  I have great quantities of time on my hands, a pleasure not so very long ago I longed for, and yet I feel this impending heaviness, this pressure to be doing-well, something. Anything.

I SHOULD be cleaning house, I SHOULD be writing, I SHOULD be job hunting, I SHOULD, I SHOULD, I SHOULD.....and this pressing keeps me from what my heart knows it needs. Rest.  Quietness, Stillness.

Not sleep, I get plenty of that.  Not leisure, I have too much of that.  But life is busy, and the world we live in never stops.  And although I know better I get caught up in it. 

Do you remember the story of Mary & Martha?  For years I believed I was a Martha, because I am happier away from the crowd, in the kitchen.  But that's because I am an introvert, not a Martha, with her servant's heart.  I was stunned when someone told me once I was a Mary.  But when I think about it it rings true.  In my own quiet way I like to sit and listen, to worship with my words and my heart, not my hands.

Years ago I remember reading Habakkuk, during one of my many forays through the Bible, and these words truly resonated with me: 

“But the Lord is in His holy temple.

Let all the earth keep silence before Him.” (Habakkuk 2:20)

At the time I thought the reason the words spoke so loudly to me was the dissonance I felt from the reverence of the church of my upbringing and the, well, noise, of the evangelical fold I found myself in.  I still think there is a lack of balance; the Roman Catholic church I grew up in, while reverent, lacks intimacy, and its formality and rules leave little room for Holy Spirit to move; the evangelical/charismatic church has sacrificed reverence for Holiness, to some degree, for intimacy, and the desire to put off the bondage of rule & legalism had left us with a lack of restraint.  And I doubt I am explaining THAT very well.

I can see now that in my own life I am guilty of forgetting reverence, and of surrounding myself with noise & busyness, and then I wonder why God is silent.  I fool myself into believing I make time to be quiet, still, but the truth is I struggle with it.  I find it hard to focus when I pray, my mind rushing off with to-do lists, reliving conversations, calling up old hurts and past joys, rarely being truly still and silent.

Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth! (Psalm 46:10)

When I do stop and take a good look at things though, I really have little to complain about.  I have great love in my life, and at long last great passion too.  My children are healthy and happy and doing well.  I am well fed (too well, maybe) and healthy.  I have good friends to lean on, and I know God will provide beyond my wildest expectations, His promises are true & He is ever faithful.  I may not understand why I am at this place right now, but I realize it is simply a season of change, and, like all seasons, it will pass and there will be new and better things.

Cooking with Emily: Grilled Meatballs

It's been a busy week, for some of us anyway.  After handing out flyers along the Coaldale Candy Parade route Saturday Emily left to spend the remainder of the weekend with her dad.
Monday morning she decided she wanted to make Cheeseburger Pie for supper.  I balked a little, but decided I could make the pie crust for her while she was off swimming, since that's a lesson in and of itself.  And the thought of having the oven on was not appealing, although Monday was not as warm as it has been.  Funny how quickly +22 goes from balmy to cool.
But she decided she wanted to spend the night with her friends, so I was on my own for supper.  Ah, cheese and crackers, no fuss, no muss.  She could cook Tuesday.
Tuesday, after I donated blood, we headed to the mall to pick up a new cable for her tablet.  We did a little shopping before deciding to have an early supper with my son, who works at the mall. Dinner again was delayed,  and Emily decided to have another sleepover with her friends.
Wednesday morning she messaged me to ask when I wanted her home.  While we were settling that I suggested she try another recipe, since having the oven on for almost an hour in +30 heat didn't seem like a good idea.  I emailed her the recipe I had found and we were off.
I spent a quiet afternoon in the sun, enjoying a cold beer and finishing my book.
While Emily mixed together the ingredients for the meatballs I made garlic toast, slicing a panini roll into rounds, like a miniature loaf of French bread.  She needed help chopping the green onions-we really need to get her past whatever thing she has about onions and knives.
I cut her a couple layers of foil wrap to cook the meatballs on and started the barbecue for her.
While the meatballs were on the grill she heated up a bowlful of frozen mixed vegetables.  I got distracted and scorched the garlic bread on one side.  You can stand and watch it like a hawk and it will not brown, turn your back for a moment and it's black.  Why is that?

Dinner was great.  I think the meatballs would be a good addition to a camping menu too, since they didn't require much prep and used only a few basic ingredients.

Foil Pack Grilled Meatballs

1 pound lean ground beef                      1/4 cup Caesar salad dressing
3/4 cup bread crumbs                             1 egg
2 green onions, finely chopped             1/4 cup barbecue sauce

Heat barbecue to medium high heat.
Combine all ingredients except the barbecue sauce.  Mix until just blended and shape into 24 -1 1/2" meatballs.
Place on a large sheet of heavy duty foil sprayed with non-stick cooking spray.  Drizzle with barbecue sauce and fold into a packet.  
Grill 15-18 minutes, until meatballs are done.  Cut vents into the foil to release steam before opening packet

Emily has discovered Pintrest (Heaven help me!)  Last night she found a recipe for Reese's peanut butter bars.  This morning she decided she wanted to make them, but couldn't find the recipe.  I happened to have one that I know is very good, quite easy (easier than what I recall her find looked to be) and so I suggested she try those instead.
We had a brief lesson on equivalent measures, 12 ounces of chocolate chips is 1 1/2 cups, which we melted in the microwave.  My 1/4 cup measure has disappeared, so she learned that 4 tablespoons is 1/4 as we measured 2 3/4 cups of icing sugar into a mixture of graham cracker crumbs, melted butter and peanut butter.  Once this was blended well we pressed it into a 9x13" pan and poured the melted chocolate over it.  Emily, despite not liking peanuts, decided the squares did need  decorating, and placed peanut halves onto the chocolate.  We chilled it for several minutes and then I cut the bars before the chocolate hardened completely.  Once they had chilled completely Emily tried one and declared them good, saying she thought we should make them again.  I can't say I disagree, although they cannot go to school, and the last time I made them I was the only one who ate them.  Go figure.

Reese's Bars

2 1/c cups graham wafer crumbs                           1 cup melted margarine
12 ounces chocolate chips                                      2 3/4 cups icing sugar
1 cup peanut butter

Melt chocolate chips, set aside.  Combine remaining ingredients and press into a 9x13" pan.  Pour melted chocolate over graham crust, refrigerate.  Cut into bars after about 15 minutes, before the chocolate hardens completely. top each bar with a peanut half, if desired.  Chill completely before serving.  
No baking makes these bars a great summer time treat too

* I have halved this recipe before, using an 8x8" pan.  It works well.  These bars are very rich so a little goes a long way....but they do taste very much like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Everyday Valentines

Some months I was asked to write a guest post for someone's blog.  As it has yet to be published I thought, perhaps I could share it on my own forum.  It was fun to write, and not a little challenging, especially as the subject matter was left for me to choose.

Looking back over my own romantic life I can see perhaps the men in my life didn't grasp what I didn't have the words to tell them at the time; that romance doesn't need to be grand cinematic gestures, costly or extravagant.  

“Tell me your definition of romance,” my new friend asked. His question gave me a moment's pause before I rattled off a reply that while sincere was still a little glib. Our conversation eventually came to an end, but I couldn't shake that question. I mentioned it to my boyfriend later that day when he called. He immediately began to list what he thought of as romantic, a list I am familiar with and one I agree with. And still the question stayed in my head, as some things do. It seemed apparent then that this needed further investigation.

If you Google the word “romance” the first thing that comes up is a series of images of hearts and flowers, of couples on sunset beaches. Nothing too surprising there.

Up next is a Wikipedia entry for Romance (love) Romance is the expressive and pleasurable feeling from an emotional attraction towards another person associated with love.

In the context of romantic love relationships, romance usually implies an expression of one's strong romantic love, or one's deep and strong emotional desires to connect with another person intimately or romantically. Historically, the term "romance" originates with the medieval ideal of chivalry as set out in its chivalric romance literature.

This is followed by the Free Dictionary definition: a love affair; ardent emotional attachment or involvement between people; or a strong, sometimes short-lived attachment, fascination or enthusiasm for something.

Further exploration of Wikipedia (honestly not the best source of information, but these were the top results to my search) revealed this explanation: Romance or romantic usually refers to romance (love) love emphasizing emotion over libido

Dictionary.com (my favourite on-line dictionary/thesaurus) offered a more academic definition: a novel or other prose narrative depicting heroic or marvelous deeds, pageantry, romantic exploits, etc., usually in a historical or imaginary setting.

These links were followed by a link to the IMBd website's listing of top romantic movies. Most were, no surprise, romantic comedies.

Society has told us that this is what romance is. Hearts and flowers, fleeting emotions and literary constructs. I think it is something a little more indefinable, intangible and even just a little subjective.

I put the question out to my friends on Facebook and discovered a common theme, one entirely missed by online encyclopedias and dictionaries. The answers I received aligned with what I had discussed with my boyfriend, and with the poser of the initial question.

Not long after my boyfriend and I started seeing each other he came to see me with an armful of books he had just found at a used book sale. I accepted his gift, laughing that it had been ages since anyone had brought me flowers, but no one had ever brought me books. To me this was real romancing. I love books, and he knew that. (Don't get me wrong, I still like getting flowers! Yes, dear, that was a hint.)

Romance is a thousand little things, unique to every relationship. The response I received to my query were all from women in solid, lasting relationships, women who have seen relationships fail too, so they appreciate the value of these invisible gestures.

An unexpected coffee. An impromptu foot rub. Kissing my forehead. Helping me tie my shoes when I can't reach my feet.

Turning the electric blanket on without telling so I don't crawl into a cold bed. Washing the truck so me and my friends have a clean ride. Pushing me to buy that certain something that I am on the fence about. Holding hands while watching tv. Hugging me from behind when I'm standing at the counter.

Making coffee for me in the morning

Doing the dishes

Choosing to prefer me. My hubby always looks for a way to make my day; like surprise me with a cup of coffee.

Harry does the kitchen everyday so when I come upstairs it's so clean and tidy, delights me each day, trimming my horses feet, build a whole array of shelters for the livestock

Romance is his pouring me a glass of wine while I start supper, it's knowing how I like my coffee, and bringing it to me in the morning so I can stay in bed a little longer. It's loving my daughter like she was his own, and showing her how a real man treats a woman so she'll know when she grows up. It's notes tucked into a lunchbox or left as surprises around the house

And the list goes on....

Private jokes, and shared memories, mutual respect. This is romance. A thousand everyday things, this is romance, the way we keep love alive, keep our relationships strong and growing.

I have had two marriages fail. There were lots of reasons they didn't work, and I won't delve into that here, but I know that when things started getting tough these were the first things to fall by the wayside. We stopped touching, stopped serving each other, stopped trying to anticipate the other's needs.

There is no formula for romance, despite all the books that argue otherwise. It is knowing who you have decided to love and choosing the best way to love them every day.

Valentine:

You are not red cardboard hearts adorned with ribbon

and plastic flowers containing stickysweet candy

not longstemmed redroses, crooned sonnets or sentimental verse written for Hallmark.

You are laundry trailing across the bedroom floor, dishes not carried to the sink,

asking "Are you busy?" when I am up to my elbows in dishwater or cookie dough. You are heartsung laughter, mascara on pillowcases, whispered secrets in our dark, fistfulls of windblown wildflowers.

I cannot cease breathing, stop my pounding heart, I cannot keep the wind, the sun from caressing, searing the prairie.

You ask a knotted question: "why do you love me?"

Justbecause, that's all, justbecause.

Valentine:

The years have flown on wild wind and eagles' wings

my heart rent, repaired, shattered and mended

You have never been red cardboard hearts, candy, flowers, candlelight;

Stickysweet sentimentality

You are hands to hold in longdark nights

lovesong in perfect harmony, arias of laughter and tears

you are banished ghosts, unexpected joy

You are lingering Sunday morning coffee, the sure routine of everyday, counting stars Saturday midnight;

Moonsong, autumn breezes, sunsets followed too soon by sun's rising

You ask the unanswerable: "Why do you love me?"

I cannot cease breathing, stop my pounding heart; I cannot keep the wind, the sun from caressing, searing the prairie.

My answer remains-

Justbecause I do

I do

justbecause.