The Socks from Hell

Posted on December 5, 2012 by This Woman Writes

I have conquered the Socks from Hell.

It is not so much that I have subjugated these hand-knitted demons to their knees so much that I have brought them to my feet. Snugly, quietly, they embrace my very soles, and you would never guess how much anguish, toil, trouble, and sheer screaming frustration it took to get them there.

No, this has nothing to do with socks. But it's peaceful, and we need some peaceful right now. Homeland 1 by Steve Henderson.

No, this has nothing to do with socks. But it’s peaceful, and we need some peaceful right now.

I know, if you’re like my non-knitting sister you have no sympathy to dispense, totally not understanding why someone would take two sticks, a bunch of yarn, and several months to create something — one stitch at a time — that you can buy in bags at Wal-Mart.

She’ll never get it, but I know that some of you do:

I knit because it’s fun, a mantra I repeated to myself on this particular project, which involved stranded color work, a funky stripe that separated the top of the sock from the bottom, and a removable sole — the latter is really true, except I didn’t want it removed at the time.

The whole project stretched my skill level while it simultaneously didn’t stretch enough to fit over my foot. I call it the Cinderella Evil Step-Sister effect because my heel kept getting in the way. And while I was in the mood to cut something up, it definitely wasn’t my heel.

More peaceful. This project is difficult indeed, and it's important to rest and meditate. Homeland 2 by Steve Henderson

More peaceful. This project is difficult indeed, and it’s important to rest and meditate. Homeland 2 by Steve Henderson

But that was the least of my problems — the socks not fitting. Every possible minor mistake — using the wrong color, miscounting, dropping stitches, randomly changing needle sizes, losing my place in the chart; there are myriad others — I made, multiple times. If there is any truth to the old adage that we deliberately insert a mistake in an artisan project so that God won’t be offended by our perfection, then I am blessed by God indeed, because there is no way He would confuse what I made with what He can come up with.

But I kept plugging away at the damned things (they really are; I verbally consigned them elsewhere on a regular basis), ignoring the Norwegian Artist’s concerned looks over the top of his book. After 30 years he wisely knows when not to speak.

The good thing about the entire project is that the house stayed amazingly clean, because when I mentally gave myself a choice between working on the socks or swishing out the toilet, the toilet consistently won. Or the dishes. Vacuuming. Pairing socks — other people’s socks, the kind you buy in bags at Wal-Mart.

And after a restful time of swishing, I returned to the arena, determined to not be beaten by an inanimate object — or two inanimate objects — and quarter inch by precious quarter inch we advanced, the socks and I, until that blessed moment when I set the last stitch and wove in the final strand of yarn.

Aren't you feeling calm? I am. Of course, it helps that the socks are done and on my feet. Homeland 3 by Steve Henderson

Aren’t you feeling calm? I am. Of course, it helps that the socks are done and on my feet. Homeland 3 by Steve Henderson

Done, by gum, and with a minimum of finagling and finesse, on my feet, vanquished.

I am woman. Hear me roar. I rule, and command.

Okay. So now that’s done, and it’s time to start another project, because that’s why I knit — it’s fun, fulfilling, and addictive — far more so than swishing toilets — and I just can’t stop punishing myself.

Maybe there’s something to my sister’s way of thinking after all . . .

Nah.

All of the artwork in my posts are by my Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art, and you are more than welcome to check out his website. He sells originals as well as signed, limited edition prints, so if you see something you like, feel free to treat yourself.

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Encouragement, Family, home, Humor, knitting, Life, Lifestyle, News, Personal, Random, Style, success, Uncategorized, yarn | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

The Seasonal, Annual, Holiday, Snuffling Cold

Posted on November 28, 2012 by This Woman Writes

I feel yucky.

My nose is stuffed, I cough — twice — every 30 seconds, I can’t hear through the plugging of my ears, there’s a chill that has nothing to do with a draft, my lithesome form drapes lethargically over the sofa like a 19th century Gothic novel heroine, and when I talk I sound like a frog. Happy Holidays to me.

Ah, winter — a time of snow, holiday lights, and . . . colds. Winterscape Farm by Steve Henderson.

This is a cold from the LdVc strain —  Leonardo da Vinci, the Renaissance Man of the 16th century, who could do everything, well. That’s what that this cold is, summoning up every potential symptom that one can suffer from a cold and tucking it, somewhere, in my limbs and tissues. Just when I think I’m done I discover a secret, hidden drawer with a new symptom, or an old one, renovated, and the experience continues.

Initially, it was kind of fun — I was sick enough not to work, but not so sick that I couldn’t knit — rarely does one enjoy this combination, and enjoy it I did, achieving 12 rows  on my gossamer lace, baby alpaca shawl. At this rate, I will wear it on my 90th birthday.

But then the fun degenerated, rapidly, into a malaise resembling what heroines suffer in those 19th century Gothic romance novels, only they don’t produce explosive, wet sneezes. They just gracefully decline, auburn ringlets winsomely peeking through their fetching caps, eyes bright and lustrous. It’s pretty much what they do when they’re well as well, only they’re too feeble to embroider on the antimacassar.

Those lovely, drafty, Victorian homes, where gently fragile females reclined languidly on the couch and sighed. Sophie and Rose, available as a signed limited edition print and original, by Steve Henderson.

If I sound steeped in the genre it’s because I am, my present illness permitting me to do little but repine on the divan, Kindle in hand, a free e-book download of Alice, or, the Mysteries, my companion. My hair never, ever, cascades in ringlets. And healthy or sick, I do not look winsome.

By the way, isn’t Alice, or the Mysteries, a great title? You can almost hear the organ music, see the sheet lightning flash across the sky. Better yet is the name of the author: Baron Edward  Bulwer-Lytton Lytton, who is primarily known for the first line to one of his many, many novels: “It was a dark and stormy night,” brought to immortality by Charles Schultz’s typewriting dog, Snoopy.

While that monumental line wasn’t in this particular digital tome, there were plenty of heaving breasts, impassioned dialogue, gentle sighs, and stalwart determination to do one’s dreaded duty, which never included communicating honestly enough with one’s fellow characters to explain one’s actual reasoning behind one’s actions, something that would have cleared up a lot of misunderstandings and reduced 435 pages to 50 or so.

But such is not the nature of literature, Gothic or modern. By the way, if I’ve convinced you to track down this piece and give it a free spin on your e-reader, please note that it is a sequel to a prior novel, Ernest Maltravers, another example of a gripping title that makes you stop and think, “Who, or what, is Ernest Maltravers? I simply MUST know!”

How I shall dance with joy when I am well again! Dancer, available as a signed limited edition print, by Steve Henderson

Admittedly, Gothic novels are confusing and filled with twists and turns, but three quarters of the way through Alice I began to wonder if I was missing more than just the plot when the author repeatedly commented, “You, my reader, will remember the tragic story of this character from afore,” and I thought, “Afore? I missed that — was it in the 20 pages of political and religious diatribe that I lightly frolicked through?”

But I dutifully downloaded Ernest, and will follow the exigencies of his life, intertwined and then shattered asunder, with Alice, in the days ahead as I cough, wheeze, hack, ache, snuffle and repine my way through this dreadful seasonal malady.

“Begone! Fly far from me, thou curs’t loathsome indisposition, roosting like a malevolent vulture, perched upon the shoulder of the spotless purity of my heretofore salubrious strength. Fie! I say to thee. Fie!”

Seriously, I need to Get Well. Soon.

While you’re downloading Alice and Ernest onto your Kindle, take time to check out Life Is a Gift and The Jane Austen Driving School, my two compendiums of Middle Aged Plague articles, as well as Grammar Despair, the user-friendly grammar book designed for people who want to write, not diagram sentences.

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, books, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Entertainment, Family, health, home, Humor, inspirational, knitting, Life, Lifestyle, literature, News, Personal, Random, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Black Friday — Shopping Can Be Fun, Really

Posted on November 19, 2012 by This Woman Writes

Any of you with teenagers know that you’re frequently unpopular with them for major issues like, say, breathing, and for awhile, our policy of not buying CDs, DVDs, or digital detritus really affected our poll numbers.

Fine art — whether it’s an original or a print of an original — is one of the most unique gifts of all, because it stems from the soul and skillful hands of the artist. Girl in a Copper Dress #1 by Steve Henderson.

“But it’s what I WANT,” they argued. “Don’t you want to buy me a gift that I WANT?”

(This resembles some of my conversations with God. He has interesting gift policies as well.)

But we stuck to our principles, determined that our little fistful of dollars was going to buy something they remembered and, dare I say, treasured —

The handmade brass goats and tiger set from India for the Son and Heir

The wood and ceramic desk organizer, courtesy Rite Aid clearance, that College Girl unpacks first, whenever she moves (which is a lot)

The rubber duck, princess pillowcases, nesting mixing bowls, organic chocolate, china tea cups, piano score books, calligraphy sets, dish towels for the ascetic apartment — whatever they were interested in, whatever they used every day, whatever was slightly different but uniquely fitted to their personality — that’s where we stuffed our discretionary gift funds.

And that’s what they still use, if it hasn’t broken or been eaten, or talk about and remember, if it is no longer with us. The gifts we purchased or made did what we ultimately wanted the gifts to do: they told our progeny how much we love them, each, individually.

Each of us is so uniquely individual, and yet surprisingly the same. It’s what makes human beings so interesting. Girl in a Copper Dress #3 by Steve Henderson

Increasingly, I found and continue to find myself looking in unusual places for these gifts — second hand stores, one of a kind shops, quirky websites, product-specific outlets, individual artisans — because I want something different and fun, at the same time that I financially support someone doing different and fun.

Yeah, I know — this costs more, kind of like buying organic..

With the onset of Thanksgiving, we are entering the biggest holiday shopping season of the year, and in the frenzy and pressurized atmosphere of buying stuff for not only the people we know and love, but others who are part of our lives whether we like it or not — the co-workers, the boss, the neighbors, the elevator boy (do those people still exist?) — it’s easy to take an experience that should be pleasurable — shopping — and reducing it to yet another chore.

But we vote with our dollars, and when we buy something unique from a small businessperson or artisan, we enable those people to make a living and produce more of what they do. And when we buy lots of stuff, cheap, then we support mega conglomerates that make lots of cheap stuff.

Gifts are not and should not be an obligation — they are a joy: for the giver, for the recipient, for the person or persons who made what you bought and is grateful for your support. As a small businessperson and writer who privately publishes my books, I am grateful for those of you who seek people like me, and the Norwegian Artist, out, and support us with your precious financial resources.

Simplicity. Serenity. Contemplation. Joy. The good things of life are within the reach of all of us. Girl in a Copper Dress #2 by Steve Henderson.

Be assured that, in return, we and people like us are grateful indeed, and we bend over backward to ensure that you are pleased with what you purchased, and that you smile when you think about us. When’s the last time you felt that gratitude from a chain store?

We’re small; we’re artisans — when you purchase from me or the Norwegian Artist, you support small business people in their purest form: Kindle e-books — Life Is a Gift; The Jane Austen Driving School; Grammar Despair. Signed Limited Edition Prints by Steve Henderson. Original Paintings like the three gracing this story — fresh off the easel and available individually or 20 percent off as the set. Miniature Paintings. Really inexpensive art booklets for people who want to create, and sell, their art.

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, books, Business, Christmas, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Economy, Family, home, Humor, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, News, Parenting, Personal, Random, Relationships, shopping, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Mr. Smith Stays out of Washington

Posted on November 15, 2012 by This Woman Writes

Tired-of-Being-Youngest is attending culinary school, which I assure you is just as delicious as it sounds. I can’t wait until spring quarter, when she studies Baking and Pastries, and am sure that I will work off all of her homework assignments by some extra time in the garden.

Come spring quarter and Pastry Studies, I’ll have to emulate Wild Child and do a lot more running and moving about. Wild Child by Steve Henderson.

One of the most amazing things about Tired’s culinary program, however, is the instructional staff, a group of dedicated, intense, aggressive men — yep, all men, just like the Lord of the Rings movies —  who expect a lot of their students, but are willing to do their part and give generously of themselves as well.

I nearly fell out of the driver’s seat when Tired — who is literally tired these days, incidentally; aren’t you, after an entire day in the kitchen? And that’s not with 50 other passionately intense cooking types milling around with sharp knives — mentioned that the head of the department, a tall, imposing, scary looking man with beetling brows and an intrepid stare, stands in the financial aid line as an advocate for his students who are having trouble with the financial aid process, paperwork and system.

He must stand in that line a lot.

If I were one of those administrative clerics behind the desk, I would tremble at seeing the black mustachioed guy in the white chef’s jacket, looming over the poor huddled masses of insignificant studentry who have the effrontery to question anything I say or do, which is generally that a mistake has been made (probably by my office but I’ll never admit it), there’s nothing that can be done about it now, and it looks like you owe $800, next please.

(Oh, and by the way, if I’m sounding a little personal, you’ve got a good ear — College Girl, who unfortunately does not have a James-Bond-size-chef watching her back, owes that above amount after two people — a professor and a student financial aid employee, made some significant, but lamentably unable to be repaired except by the person who didn’t make them, errors. Let me amend that — it’s $880 — I forgot about the late fees.)

Anyone who has ever stood in the financial aid line at an institute of higher learning, knows that it’s no walk on the beach. Beachside Diversions by Steve Henderson.

But back to the Knight in White — I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t walk away, head hanging in dejection, to chop celery in place of the student he just lost. This guy’s polite and courteous at the same time that he is insistent, forceful, immovable, and resolute. He uses his position and power to fight for the little guy (at universities and colleges that’s the student), and he considers it part of his day, and his job, to do so.

Sounds like a leader to me.

Years ago, I abandoned rational thought and voted for someone outside of the political party I normally preferred, for no other reason than because he was standing on the corner of a busy intersection, smiling and waving, looking young and exuberant and honest, his sheer genuineness exuding from his gawky, lanky frame.

And my gut instinct was right — he was a good man, out for the little guy, scrupulously honest to the point that, after 12 years of truly listening to his constituents, he left the public life, because he had a family that was more important to him than political gain.

Like the chef, he is a leader, and it’s no accident that he functions best outside of politics.

I don’t look to Washington — regardless of party — or our state capitol, for honesty, integrity, leadership, and the concern for the regular person, because that’s not what today’s system is set up to address. I’m a little person, a regular person, one of those student-types that the chef stands in line for, and I find true leaders not among the professional political class, but among my own kind, including, when it’s the right time and place, myself.

We may feel small and helpless, but we can be bold indeed. Bold Innocence by Steve Henderson.

People: stand up for ourselves. While most of us are not in the position nor possess the resources to swing big things, we can all stand up for the little guy, speak out against wrongs, walk in the opposite direction of the crowd pushing against us. Thinking for ourselves and risking others’ criticism is the only way that we will survive as a nation of what we started as: independent, freedom-loving people.

By the way, if you’re an ordinary person when it comes to writing — not one of those grammar geeks — then check out Grammar Despair — Quick Simple Solutions to Problems Like, Do I Say Him and Me or He and I? my e-book for people who want to sound like they know their grammar rules, but really don’t want to study the stuff.

Posted in Art, blogging, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Education, Encouragement, Family, Growth, home, homeschooling, Humor, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, News, Parenting, Personal, Politics, Random, success, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Writing, Blogging, and Speaking, Intelligently

Posted on November 8, 2012 by This Woman Writes

I have met people with PhD’s who say things like this:

“Her and me went to the movies.”

“This gift is for she and I.”

It’s okay. There really are solutions to these problems, and you don’t have to diagram a sentence to find them.

While this may peg me as a language snob, I think twice before I listen to a surgeon who says, “This is a situation for I to be concerned about. Trust me.”

Oh yeah? I’m going to feel good about a first-generation English speaker who, after, what? 10, 12, 14 years of higher education learning how to use a knife still doesn’t know when to use “me” and “I” correctly in a sentence? What else did he miss?

At the same time, I recognize that this particular problem — when to say “Him and Me” and when to say “He and I” — is one that stumps a lot of people (the only time it really bothers me is when the people it stumps hold PhD’s).

There are other things that good, intelligent people have issues with: Is It’s Is or Its? Does anybody use Whom anymore? Is it really a sin to end a sentence with a preposition? And while we’re on the subject, what is a sentence, anyway?

Because I’m a writer — and a daughter whose mother was insistent that I know the meaning and use of the nominative and accusative cases — these questions don’t bother me. But I know that  they bother others, and for this reason I wrote Grammar Despair, an easy-to-read, user friendly guide with the answers to some of writing’s most common questions.

Grammar Despair is initially available in e-book form (I’m working on the hard copy; I’ll let you know when it’s ready) at Amazon.com. You don’t need an e-reader to access it, because Amazon can download it directly to your computer — on the right of the Amazon page, below the Buy Now with One Click button, hit the Deliver To drop-down box and choose Transfer Via Computer. You can also read it on your Kindle, iPad, iPod, or Droid.

On the Amazon site, you can look inside the book, including the complete table of contents, to see what you get for the same price as one of those flavored coffee frappuccino things. Just add me to the order with your muffin, please.

Just click on the book cover image to be taken to the Amazon page where you can read more about it.

More and more people are writing these days — blogs, e-mails, business letters, articles — and while we can say that it’s prescriptive and narrow to insist on certain language conventions, at some point, it matters that we address these issues correctly.

I can help you with that.

Just click on the issue of the book cover, and it will take you to the Amazon page where you can peek inside.

Posted in blogging, books, Business, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Education, Encouragement, Family, Growth, home, homeschooling, Humor, inspirational, Job, Life, Lifestyle, media, News, Personal, Random, shopping, success, technology, Uncategorized, Work | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Three Simple Steps to Solving the World’s Problems

Posted on October 31, 2012 by This Woman Writes

The beauty about solving the world’s problems is that you don’t have to be rich, famous, or running for president to do so — all these people propound, and often push through, their ideas, which ultimately don’t work any better than what the dog offers.

This whole world is made up of ordinary people, all of whom, despite the illusion they may give to the contrary, started out as small children. Beachside Diversions by Steve Henderson.

So I’ll toss in my input, especially valuable because I’m ordinary, relatively unknown, and not running for president, so it’s not as if I’m going to be making money on my suggestions.

Three key elements:

1) Treat others fairly — whether it’s a business or personal relationship.

2) Show compassion — we can give up our right to be right all the time, and sometimes, even when someone wrongs us (by violating Element #1), we let it go. And not just on the physical plane — give it up mentally as well, and quit thinking about it.

3) Stop thinking that we’re so incredibly incredible, and embrace that we are each an ordinary, standard model human being, just like the 7 billion others on the planet.

These three amazingly simple steps are so complicated that they’ll keep all of us well occupied for the rest of our lives, and if enough of us try to do them, well then, the world may look like a little different, little better place.

Not being as naive as I look like I am, I do, of course, recognize a major impediment in  that there are a number of people out there who have absolutely no intention of following any of the three steps, and indeed, do everything in their considerable power to perform the opposite. But, as our mothers used to say, that’s no excuse.

When we take the high road, not only does it make the world a better place, it makes each of us, individually, a happier person.

Just because they’re vermin, doesn’t mean that we have to be.

And lest I be accused of drawing upon some Holy Book for these steps, mea culpa — but does it matter? Any Holy Book or belief system worth its Himalayan Sea Salt (this stuff is amazing; and its PINK!) embraces these three concepts. Even if we believe that our 38th cousin, two million years removed, walked around on its knuckles and grunted, surely we accept that there’s nothing particularly special about us that warrants our grasping special treatment that we deny to others?

But that’s the problem, isn’t it. We’re human, we each live in a soft, fleshy shell that’s remarkably sensitive to being poked, prodded, or jabbed, and it’s a major goal to ensure that the environment around that soft fleshy shell is as cushy as we can make it.

Take me, for example — and I really don’t want to discuss the soft fleshy shell part in any more detail, thank you. There is this Person, who, years ago, offended me to the point that I no longer wanted to be in this Person’s presence.

It’s not so much that I run when this Person is in the vicinity (bad tactic, by the way — you always lose when you’re on the defensive), as that I think twice before I find myself in situations where this Person will be breathing the same air in my room. Fortunately, we have little in common, so when we meet in the grocery store or the library, we give those brittle smiles that people who can’t stand one another give, and move on.

But I couldn’t get this Person out of my mind, and was especially irritated because this Person’s life seems to be going so well, and I really would prefer that it not do so — nothing too dramatic, mind you, but just enough to cause a general sense of desultory dissonance and despair.

And then, one day I thought about how this Person would be in a different situation — if this Person realized the errors of its ways and amended. I would actually like this Person then, because of a number of fine, upstanding, warm, funny and wonderful qualities, which just happen to be hidden from me in our relationship with one another.

No matter how hard we try, we never leave the inside of our thoughts. It’s wise, then, to make those thoughts good ones. Gathering Thoughts, newly available as an affordable print, by Steve Henderson

But it changed my outlook, and I let this Person go. In my mind I treated this Person fairly, the way I would want to be treated myself (Element #1). I gave up my right to be offended (Element #2). I told myself that my feelings, my thoughts, my hurts, weren’t the only ones that mattered (Element #3).

One person down. Six billion plus to go.

(By the way, the three simple steps can be found, in more sophisticated form, in Micah 6:8 of the Bible, but as I mentioned before, they’re pretty fundamental to goodness and truth, so any system propounding these elements should have something of the sort.)

If you like artwork in this post, then please visit Steve Henderson Fine Art’s Signed Limited Print page, where you can buy a beautiful work, framed or unframed, for a reasonable, affordable price. And shipping is free.

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, Christian, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Encouragement, Family, Growth, home, Humor, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, News, Personal, Random, Relationships, religion, success, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Let Freedom Ring — Start with School Lunch

Posted on October 24, 2012 by This Woman Writes

Well, so the election is coming up, or sort of happening, the excitement of an actual election day long watered down by a two or three or four-week voting “process.” Somehow, it’s just not the same thing, sitting down at the dining room table with a black pen and a vote-by-mail ballot, calling the progeny from their rooms so that they can “watch me vote!”

“Cool, Mom. Is there anything to eat?”

Considering that eating is something that we all do, multiple times a day, we could derive greater enjoyment from the process than we customarily do. Afternoon Tea by Steve Henderson.

And speaking of eating, that’s actually what I wanted to talk about today because, oddly, how and what we choose to eat is a determination of how free we are. I know, that sounds loopy, but bear with me:

Yesterday I read a Letter to the Editor from a mother whose son was 35 cents short to pay for his school lunch. The person at the cash register, who was either having a bad day or more likely was just doing the job she was hired to do, tossed the entire tray of food into the trash and waved the kid on.

While it doesn’t take many letters behind your name to figure out that the boy was publicly humiliated (M.O.M. or D.A.D. will do), this isn’t the point of the story. Neither is the blatant waste of something too many people in the world don’t have enough of — food.

What struck me was the mother’s lament that her son had to content himself with a bag of potato chips, and what were school officials thinking in presuming that her son could effectively learn if he weren’t properly fed? I mean, aren’t there all sorts of studies out there about this?

Studies aside, there’s actually an amazingly simple solution to this problem, and it doesn’t involve an additional 35 cents in her son’s pocket:

Pack your own lunch.

The amazing banana goes a long way in any lunch plan. The Fruit Vendor by Steve Henderson.

Years ago, when I was a little tyke with a side-swiped pony tail that represented the only way my mother knew how to do my hair, I sat with half the school in the gymnasium, eating a cold home-packed collation from a battered metal Bugs Bunny lunchbox. The other half of the school, the “Haves,” were in the basement cafeteria, where hot food was served.

Sometimes, on Fish Stick day, I was insanely jealous of the Haves, but this was counterbalanced by Hobo Stew Day, representing a compendium of leftovers that was as appetizing as its name. While every so often I finagled the precious 75 cents from my mother so that I could hob nob with my social betters in the basement, most of the time I ate what she — and later I, as I grew older — prepared: a bologna sandwich, a banana, a cookie, some soup. It may not have topped the nutrition or taste-test scales, but neither did the Hobo Stew, or even the fish sticks, for that matter.

But there was no issue about my being properly fed, or my going hungry because I didn’t like what was being served, because my mother and I were in control of the situation. We, not school officials, not the First Lady who may or may not be out of a job in a few weeks, not the USDA, determined what I ate. And we did a fine job of it.

But nowadays, many people willingly hand over this simple task to an impersonal institution that is not particularly known for its culinary prowess. Why?

Whether it’s because they’re poor (we weren’t rich) or too busy (I never saw my mother sit in the middle of the day) or worried about their children’s being ridiculed for being different (quite the learning environment, there), the result is that yet another small thing that we can do to assert our independence is taken out of our hands, willingly so, because we let it go.

Our freedoms — little and big — enable us to determine where we walk in our lives. Gathering Thoughts, by Steve Henderson

It’s such a mindless, minor job, that its very triviality makes it not seem worth talking about. But that so many people simply can’t see how they can prepare their own child’s lunch — and so many more are told that they unable to properly do so, and they NEED somebody to do it for them — shows that it’s not trivial at all, but a symptom of a much larger problem.

If we don’t remain independent in the little things, how do we expect to keep our freedoms in the bigger ones?

Posted in Art, blogging, children, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Education, Family, Food, home, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, Motherhood, News, Parenting, Personal, Politics, Random, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments

Awash with Squash

Posted on October 17, 2012 by This Woman Writes

It was a dark and stormy night.

The garden didn’t look like this on the night that the men harvested the squash. But then again, the men didn’t look like the girl in the painting, either. Promenade by Steve Henderson.

Amidst the raging wind, and while I sat cosily knitting on the couch, The Norwegian Artist and the Son and Heir brought in the last of the garden’s harvest. (Those of you who enjoy a comfortable, long-time relationship with the other half of your soul recognize that, sometimes you’re doing cruddy things and he’s not; but other times he’s doing them, and you’re knitting.)

Aside from two sopped yet triumphant males, the evening resulted in three overflowing wheelbarrows of winter squash, something that I had no idea of what to do with. I mentioned this culinary lack on my part to the Son and Heir last winter when he was ordering seeds, but he loftily informed me that there are lots of things that one can do with winter squash, and he would duly provide me with recipes.

The only recipe I knew was the one my parents used: whack the squash in half, stick it in the oven til it’s mushy, mash it like potatoes, and slather butter and brown sugar on top.

Yuck.

There’s a reason why I was adamantly opposed to the over enthusiastic planting of this stuff.

But, I must concede to the Son and Heir, there’s a lot of it, it’s cheap, it’s nutritious, and it lasts a long time, especially when you don’t use it, but that latter, I’m told, is not an option.

It’s not just squash that you find in gardens. Garden Gatherings by Steve Henderson.

I might take this moment to mention, incidentally, that the promised recipes are not forthcoming and don’t look like they ever will be, but not to matter — I am creating them myself. Not only that, but I am slowly discovering that there are lot of things you can do with winter squash other than overcook and pulverize it into something that the dogs delicately sniff before giving you that look, “You don’t expect me to eat this, do you?”

(As I recall, that question, while being in the forefront of my mind as a child, is one I would never have dared to utter aloud. How things change.)

With the notable exception of what to do with winter squash, my parents taught me a lot of cool things, not the least of which was how to use the resources I had to the best of their advantage, and I am now on the challenge of the chase — mind whirling with ideas of how to transform massive amounts of slightly sweet, starchy material into something that I, the rest of the family, and the dogs, will eat.

You, my friends, will reap the largesse of this activity, beginning with today’s lunch, Chicken Quinoa Soup with Cubed Delicata Squash. If you don’t know what Delicata Squash looks like, follow the link, but please make sure to come back, because we’re not done yet. (Actually, you can use pretty much any variety of winter squash for this soup; I’m using Delicata because 1) I have an overflowing wheelbarrow of it and 2) it’s small, sweet, and easy to handle.)

If you can’t pronounce Quinoa (keen-wa), much less know what it is, don’t panic — you can use rice, barley, or some other grain.

Whether you make the soup or not, think on this:

Opportunity is golden and fleeting. Snatch it when and where you can. Golden Opportunity by Steve Henderson.

We all have resources, and they’re all different. Some people have boxes and boxes of bananas, roasted coffee, and chocolate, and it’s tempting for others of us, faced with wheelbarrowfuls of winter squash, to look upon them with envy, but we lose something when we do that:

Opportunity.

And now, in case you missed (accidentally or on purpose) the link to the recipe above, let’s talk about Chicken Quinoa Soup with Cubed Delicata Squash.

Posted in Art, blogging, Daily Life, Family, Food, gardening, home, Humor, inspirational, Life, Lifestyle, News, Personal, Random, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Recipe: Chicken and Quinoa Soup with Cubed Delicata Squash

Posted on October 17, 2012 by This Woman Writes

Soup is fast, easy, cheap, nutritious, and flexible. If you don’t have some of the ingredients, don’t worry: use rice instead of quinoa; pumpkin in place of delicata squash; leftover chicken instead of a frozen chicken thigh. Vary your spices, depending upon what’s in the cupboard and what you like.

To a certain extent, your soup varies each time you make it depending upon what is in your refrigerator. Feel free to experiment, and if the result is not what you expect, well, the dogs are always looking for a handout. But I’m guessing that you’ll like what you made.

Serves 4-6.

Ingredients:

  • 1/3 cup oil (I use light olive oil)
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 1 cup celery, chopped
  • 2 carrots, cubed, diced or chopped
  • One half of 1 delicata squash — peeled, cut in half lengthwise (I chop off both ends so it’s easier to work with), pulp and seeds scooped out, and flesh chopped into half-inch pieces, which don’t have to look like perfect little squares. Save the other half of the squash for another day of soup. We’re talking a cup or so or chopped squash.
  • 6-10 cups water, depending upon how thin you like your soup
  • 1/3 cup quinoa or other grain, like rice
  • 1/3 cup lentils (I use red, because they disintegrate. But you don’t have to use the lentils at all, if you don’t want to. I do because it adds texture and cheap protein.)
  • 1 heaping teaspoon powdered green curry
  • 1 heaping teaspoon garam masala (optional). Garam masala is made up of equal weight cinnamon sticks, black peppercorns, black cardamom pods, and cloves, ground in your coffee grinder; you can also buy it pre-made)
  • One frozen chicken thigh
  • 1 cup chicken broth or chicken bouillon mixed with 1 cup water (I use Better Than Bouillon — great stuff)
  • 6 fresh sage leaves, chopped, or 1 tsp. dried sage
  • 1 sprig fresh rosemary, chopped (chop just the needles, not the stem), or 1 tsp. dried rosemary

Saute the onions in the oil for five minutes. Add the celery and stir around for five minutes more.

Dump in the carrots, squash, and six cups water. Add the quinoa, lentils, garam masala and curry, and over medium heat, bring the soup to a boil. Turn down the heat to whatever it takes to keep the liquid lightly simmering, but not boiling. Simmer the soup for 30 minutes until the quinoa and lentils are soft.

As the quinoa and lentils cook, they will absorb liquid, and soup will thicken. If you want it this thick, keep it so — but you’ll have to keep an eye on it so it doesn’t scorch. I add water, a cup or two at a time, to keep the mass “soupy.”

Toss in the chicken thigh, and the 1 cup chicken broth or chicken bouillon mixed with 1 cup water, and cover with the soup. Remember, if the soup is getting a little too thick for your liking right now, add more water. Cook the thigh in the soup for 10-15 minutes. Make sure it’s done and not pink inside.

Pull out the chicken, cut it into little pieces, and toss it back into the soup. Just before serving, add the chopped sage and rosemary. Salt to taste.

If you missed the story that goes with this soup, feel free to check out Awash with Squash.

Posted in Daily Life, Family, Food, health, Lifestyle, News, Random, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Jane Austen Cocktail Party Game

Posted on October 10, 2012 by This Woman Writes

Halloween is weeks away, and we all know what that means.

Yep. Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat (by the way, have you, or anyone you know, ever actually eaten a goose?), and the round of cocktail parties will find you out every night, giddily hobnobbing with all sorts of expensive, sequined people.

Have you ever eaten one of these things? Everything on my holiday table has come from a bin in the grocery store meat case. Geese on the Snake by Steve Henderson.

It makes no difference, your murmuring that you don’t attend cocktail parties, at Christmas or any other time, because I know this isn’t true. Every single year newspapers run long articles about holiday cocktail parties and how their readers can survive them. Obviously, these articles wouldn’t be written if cocktail parties weren’t a huge problem that needs to be addressed, and I’m going to get started early with the definitive, Jane Austen Survival Game to Surviving Holiday Cocktail Parties.

Any Jane Austen fan already knows how to play this game, because we do it all the time. In any random group of people – on the bus, at a business meeting, in church, in the waiting room of the doctor’s office – we surreptitiously look around and assign certain people to corresponding characters in Jane Austen novels; Pride and Prejudice is the standard reference, although Sense and Sensibility is popular with advanced beginners and intermediate Jane Austen fans. Truly advance Austenites know not only the characters, but the plot, of Lady Susan or Northanger Abbey.

I admit it. I don’t know the plot to Lady Susan, but like all of Austen’s characters, she was a woman who transcended her time and place, kind of like the gracious figures of Steve’s paintings. Lady of the Lake by Steve Henderson.

You don’t have to be of this level, however. Just having watched a Pride and Prejudice movie is enough, although I find that people who watch these movies 1) watch all of them, 2) quote extensively from all of them, and 3) read Jane Austen, so I guess if you’ve watched even one of the movies you probably do know the plot to Lady Susan. Either that or you’re married to an Austen fan and you survived the cinematic experience because the room was dark and nobody noticed that your eyes were closed.

But enough of that – back to the game. Find a person; at a social event it’s usually the one who’s found you, backed you into a corner, and is telling you about the life cycle of aboriginal swamp rats, and think of which Jane Austen character this person reminds you of.

Yeah, I thought of Mr. Collins, too.

The woman laughing too loud and jiggling out of her dress is Mrs. Bennett. The quiet man in the opposite corner, drinking far too much and pretending that he doesn’t know the jiggling woman is Mr. Bennett.

The guy kissing up to the boss because he wants your job (God knows why) is Wickham. Mr. Bingley is always a challenge – you need someone wealthy and attractive but vaguely missing something, like brains, but when you find him it’s always a rush.

Mr. Darcy is really, really hard to find, as is Elizabeth Bennett, because perfection is elusive, but if you save them for last, you can spend an entire evening filling in the rest of the character roster. If you have an Austen-minded friend – a Charlotte, so to speak, to your own Elizabeth – you’ll find that cocktail parties, or any other compulsive group gathering – are something to actually look forward to, because you have a meaningful task to complete – finding a live person to correspond with every single character in each of Jane’s books.

Jane’s characters are colorful, vibrant, alive, fascinating, and complex. Diaphanous by Steve Henderson.

Of course, if you’ve never read any of Jane’s books, then you’ve got some work ahead of you, but not to worry: it’s not even mid-October. Every library has a copy of Pride and Prejudice, and even though Jane’s writing gives the impression of employing the specious artifice of convolutedly byzantine circumlocution (admittedly, she does use big words, and it did take Elizabeth two paragraphs to say “No” to Mr. Darcy’s first marriage proposal), the story is a simple one – boy meets girl and boy marries girl 299 pages later.

At the very least, when you are pinned into the corner by Mr. Collins, you can riposte, spiritedly like Elizabeth Bennett, with quote after quote from your recent reading, until you drive him back, back, back into the opposite corner and leave him there, a quivering, quaking, shaking mass ineffectively sputtering on and on about the life cycle of aboriginal swamp rats.

More of me, and a little of Jane — The Jane Austen Driving School and Life Is a Gift — 30 Middle Aged Plague essays each neatly wrapped and tucked into e-book form, for a really, really reasonable price. Download me!

Posted in Art, Beauty, blogging, books, Christmas, Culture, Current Events, Daily Life, Entertainment, games, home, Humor, Job, Life, Lifestyle, movies, News, Personal, Random, Relationships, success, Uncategorized, Work | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments