I'm amazed this mailbox is still here. I thought about it the other day, wondering if it still existed in the world. I am finding many odd things lately...items in my house, hidden treasures, things squirreled away as I while away the days and weeks here at home in the pandemic. And this. This is still here.

Bending the curve

An angle of progress...today is a bit better.

Three things that went well since 3 pm yesterday:

1. I went to the Saver's 50% off Memorial Day sale this morning and found all sorts of cute clothes for G. Hard to guess what she'll like, but it was fun.
2. The barbecue at J and A's was all lovely air, sun, on the new, creative deck built by their dad. I had a wonderful conversation with V. who got back from a trip to Africa a few weeks ago. It had been very different what she expected, laden down with illness for part of the trip, but she was full of interesting observations.
3. I walked 40 minutes last night. Again at almost sunset, by the river. I plan to do it again this afternoon.

Three things I'm grateful for:

1. Steak. I brought steaks to the barbecue--I haven't had a steak in months--and it was delicious. It cut like butter.
2. People who continue to love even as I am empty and difficult.
3. A day with a bit more activity in the real world. 

Pulling out of the hole

2015...missed my annual blog post last year. Oh well! 

I'm in a spring slump, or a bipolar (undiagnosed) slump, or something, and it's been months now. I don't know why I just settle into a hole like this when it happens. Why I scratch around in the dirt, make myself a little nest, pull a thin blanket of dust over myself, turn on Netflix, and lie inert. I don't know why I don't fight harder. There are beautiful people in my life, people I don't deserve but could enjoy time with. There are interesting and beneficial things to do out there. Everyone around me is living their life, and I should be doing that also, if not for myself, at least so that I can be a fun person for the people I love. But right now, I just can't. 

My relationship with God is silent right now because I'm horrified by Deuteronomy 28 (last half) and don't know what to do with it. I discovered this passage at the start of April (perhaps I'd never read it before?) and I just don't know how to process it. I've talked to a few people about it but so far nothing seems to help.

But wait! This entry is about PULLING OUT of the hole. None of this whining will help that. So, after a mostly unproductive day in my comfy hole, I am listing:

Three things that went well today:

1. I had a great conversation with my dear brother Harold this morning.
2. I looked up a lot of resources for a friend who is struggling with how to help a family member with a disability.
3. I walked for 40 minutes, maybe 45.

Three things I'm grateful for today:

1. The amazing clouds this evening--pink and slate and purple--with the sun setting over them.
2. The fact that after being stuck and unproductive watching the entire fabulous Parenthood series (all six years of it in the past few weeks) I'm finally done. I promise myself I will not start Friday Night Lights.
3. The knowledge that I've gotten out of holes like this before--well, maybe not the God hole but the empty depressive hole--and this gives me hope that I will again.

Just a tester

A dear friend wants to start a blog and would like some help using Blogger. I'm a novice and want to remind myself how to add a post, so I can help her. I told her I have a blog that I post in maybe once every year. Actually, this time it's been two years. The durability of this green box never fails to amaze me, I just say. No rust, no letters, just silence on the corner. I'm adding a post before 2013 winds to a close!

Look. This green mailbox is still here. STILL here. Waiting for a letter. Who would have known?

Kitchen Miss Adventure

I am not a skilled cook. So I usually make easy, spartan meals--salads, rice & beans, roast chicken (the store actually makes that), sandwiches, crockpot soup. But occasionally I get an urge to do something more, preferably something healthy. I was inspired by eating with my friends this weekend on their sailboat out on Bear Lake. (The sailboat is another story, but it was lovely being out on the water, and I did the flailing-arms-I'm-halfway-on-the-dock-halfway-in-the-boat thing just once.)

My friends are both on Weight Watchers and becoming vegetarians to boot, so everything we ate was strictly good for us. And for the most part delicious, with the exception of the fat-free cheese in the quesadillas--I think they replaced the fat with polymer. My friend Elizabeth made a particularly tasty black bean and yam filling for tortillas, topped with fat-free sour cream. I wanted more than one, but following their lead, I stopped at just-full-enough.

When I got home tonight I decided I wanted to replicate that supper for myself, partly because I had started the day with a Kuoing Aman from Les Madeleines. If you haven't tried one, you must do it at least once. It's the most delicious pastry on earth--buttery, crunchy, caramelized on the outside and soft on the inside. I was bringing some to my coworkers, but I opened the box and ate mine in the five short blocks from the bakery to the office. To be fair, my health-conscious boss ate hers in about five minutes.

So when I got home, I wanted to eat healthy. I proceeded by my vague memory of what Elizabeth did--sauteeing onions and garlic in one pan, cubing yams to boil in another, smashing up some beans in the sautee pan and adding spices. Since I had run out of black beans, I substituted red and white beans. Then I decided to use tomatoes instead of vegetable broth. When the yams were finished cooking, I decided that rather than leave them cubed as she had (we assembled our own with the beans and cubed yams, etc.), I would just go ahead and mash the yams up with the beans.

I come by this haphazardness honestly. Many days when we would ask mom what was for dinner, she would waggle her spoon around in the air and say, "Oh...a mixture." This could mean either vegetables stir-fried with an ingenious sauce, or leaden grey leftovers stirred together and microwaved. (It wasn't too often the second; my mom was a pretty good cook.) She never attempted to give any of these "mixtures" a specific name, and never attempted a repeat performance. A mixture was a mixture.

When I was done mashing, unfortunately this mixture had the unfortunate look of a large pan of vomit. (I've spared you the photo.) But I was committed now, so I soldiered on and got out the tortillas. Loaded one up, sprinkled it with cheese and some greens, and rolled it up. Just about then my dog was begging for some (bless her), so I was distracted for a minute. And then realized that I had set down the plastic bag of tortillas on one of the burners, turned off but just recently.

Oh well. I took a bite. It was actually quite good. Needed some salt, but doesn't everything? Thanks, mom. Good mixture.

Red Stripe, Blue Moon

The sweat dripped down the cold pint glasses. They had the perfect amount of foam--delicate white bubbles that he wanted to dive into. But first the photo. The world leader, the semi-famous scholar, the bewildered cop. Not the way he wanted to become semi-famous, not the way he wanted to meet his president.

The next morning in a board room in New Jersey, they spread out the proofs. "Was it worth it, boss?" someone asked. "The jammed door, the arrest, the apology?"

"You're kidding, aren't you?" he said. "A hundred times over, it was worth it. The leader of the free world drinks Bud Light. Product placement, baby, product placement."