I made a New Years resolution to cook more, exercise more, and be neater around the house. Although I can't say that my house is any tidier than it was in 2010, or that my waistline is any smaller than it was in 2010, I can say that I've - we've - made an honest effort to cook more.
In addition to bringing unprepared food back into my home (despite the rising opposition from the ice cubes, ice cream and the bottles of booze), cooking has also opened up a whole can of worms of the tools that I need to complete my recipes - spatulas, colanders, cutting boards, zesters, pepper miles, knife rack - which brings me to my biggest problem.
To quote Wayne's World "A gun rack... a gun rack. I don't even own *a* gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack. What am I gonna do... with a gun rack?" Cart before the horse much? I don't even have a knife to put on the knife rack that I swear I need. Well, until today.
I manage a restaurant in downtown Philly, which, if you're one of my two readers you already know this. A little while back I was talking to one of my coworkers about my new years resolution, swapping easy recipes for me to try with limited resources, and I mentioned in passing that I was in dire need of a knife. Like I'm-"chopping"-cilantro-with-scissors dire need of a suitable knife. Today, I got my wish. At approximately 2:45 pm, my dear friend passed me a retired, lovingly used but freshly sharpened 10" chef knife.
The knife that I was given has definitely been used, you can tell. Like buying a used bike, I can tell that this blade has battled the bravest sirloins, racks of lamb, and duck breasts. Overcome the tedious tasks of deboning chickens, filleting salmon, and trimming pork loins. The handle is black, faded near the base, missing chunks along the side, and comfortable resting in your hand.
It's a great knife, and not because now it's mine, but because it really reminded me of why we all have resolutions anyway. Why each year we swear to be better people, try new things, push old boundaries, and forgive ourselves for our shortcomings in the previous year. We can all be so hard on ourselves, and for what? Because we're still 5 pounds heavier? Because we're 1 of ten million 20 something's that doesn't have it all figured out?
I think we could all give ourselves some space to not know the answers. To give ourselves the space to be confused, and to not have it all figured out. To absolve ourselves for our mistakes, and to keep loving ourselves and each other for our light and our darkness. To find the courage to accept our shortcomings as a piece of our puzzle, and make resolutions that don't put us on an island, but brings us closer to the people who love us the most.
When I'm cooking, 12 legs are dancing around mine, doing their best to keep the floor clean. Drive-by kisses land on my shoulder, and four hands work around chopping, dicing, searing, and stewing, the pot and sometimes my patience, when I reach for something and it isn't there or I burn myself on my awful electric range. The kitchen is filled with steam and stories about how fun and sometimes challenging the day has been, and big plans for tomorrow. Sometimes I get unexpected outcomes, but nine times out of ten I love them.
I still don't have all of the tools that I need to be a successful home cook, or whatever it is that I'm becoming. But sometimes all you need is a friend, or your only devoted reader, to remind you that you have the power to make resolutions, and to become your absolute best, to create a world that you want to live in, maybe forever. Lets all help each other keep the knife before the knife rack, absolve ourselves for forgotten resolutions, and celebrate our little victories, one dish at a time.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Monday, July 26, 2010
Since Yesterday, Until Tomorrow
Yesterday was my Pop Pop's birthday. Each year I travel to the hill of his gravesite to celebrate his birthday. I've always been silently teased by the irony, but ultimately understood by my family for this ritual. When I was a kid my Pop would sneak roll ups of salami and bags of seed cookies when my Mom wasn't looking-a betrayal to the current diet he was sworn to follow. He would quietly look at me from across his kitchen, lifting his pointer finger to his lips. Secret's safe with me.
I bring seed cookies to his grave, dig a little hole in the soil in front of his tomb stone, and push lit candles into the soil for the wind to blow out. Over the years I've convinced myself that I know he's still near me because eventually the wind blows, and for a moment he's still here. Sneaking seed cookies and rolls of salami when my Mom isn't looking.
This year I got caught up in whatever tedious detail that was on my plate at the time, and I forgot his birthday. And his seed cookies. And since I've remembered that I've missed it, I've been beating myself up for not only what I've missed in 24 hours, but what I've missed in the past year. Since I've "moved on." Since I've "grown up."
I think it's interesting how we keep track of our weeks and days, well, nowadays.
It's been a year since I've posted. And not even figuratively. Down to the week, one year. In the past year I've caught myself saying "since" and "until" more and more. But since and until what?
The ebb and flow of the since-and-until can be terrifying when you've forgotten where you're standing right now, all because you were too busy holding on for the storm you were told was coming tomorrow yesterday.
Each year I renew my calendar with a new starting point. January renews our calendar, but it leaves the fiscal year in the red, the zodiac's spliced and the seasons in flux. What used to be arbitrary dates are now pillars in our personal history creating anniversaries much stronger than calendar days. We catch ourselves living day to day looking forward to whats coming our way, but constantly reminding ourselves of the past. Never present, never focused, never living in the minute.
I've let some days fall off my calendar, forgetting that they've even passed. With a little effort, I've picked up some new dates to add to the 365. Some dates have passed that still leave me heartbroken, others not. Some dates make me blush, others still make me nauseous. Some dates remind me of bright blue walls and exhaust fans, and some remind me of pools with sprinklers.
I'm living in the ebb and flow of the since and until, and it's terrifying and comforting at the same time. I don't know what I'm waiting for, or what the until is. For the first time in a long time, I've stopped counting my weeks since the big fall. I'm not waiting for things to get better, they just are. But some of the big questions still remain. What am I moving towards? What's next.
It's been 11 months since I switched jobs, one month until I can finally celebrate a happy anniversary. One year since I finally started rowing again, one month until my big vacation. I don't know whats next, what I'm waiting for, or what I think is waiting for me. I guess for now, I'll just go with the flow, or in my case, with the breeze.
Happy Birthday
I bring seed cookies to his grave, dig a little hole in the soil in front of his tomb stone, and push lit candles into the soil for the wind to blow out. Over the years I've convinced myself that I know he's still near me because eventually the wind blows, and for a moment he's still here. Sneaking seed cookies and rolls of salami when my Mom isn't looking.
This year I got caught up in whatever tedious detail that was on my plate at the time, and I forgot his birthday. And his seed cookies. And since I've remembered that I've missed it, I've been beating myself up for not only what I've missed in 24 hours, but what I've missed in the past year. Since I've "moved on." Since I've "grown up."
I think it's interesting how we keep track of our weeks and days, well, nowadays.
It's been a year since I've posted. And not even figuratively. Down to the week, one year. In the past year I've caught myself saying "since" and "until" more and more. But since and until what?
The ebb and flow of the since-and-until can be terrifying when you've forgotten where you're standing right now, all because you were too busy holding on for the storm you were told was coming tomorrow yesterday.
Each year I renew my calendar with a new starting point. January renews our calendar, but it leaves the fiscal year in the red, the zodiac's spliced and the seasons in flux. What used to be arbitrary dates are now pillars in our personal history creating anniversaries much stronger than calendar days. We catch ourselves living day to day looking forward to whats coming our way, but constantly reminding ourselves of the past. Never present, never focused, never living in the minute.
I've let some days fall off my calendar, forgetting that they've even passed. With a little effort, I've picked up some new dates to add to the 365. Some dates have passed that still leave me heartbroken, others not. Some dates make me blush, others still make me nauseous. Some dates remind me of bright blue walls and exhaust fans, and some remind me of pools with sprinklers.
I'm living in the ebb and flow of the since and until, and it's terrifying and comforting at the same time. I don't know what I'm waiting for, or what the until is. For the first time in a long time, I've stopped counting my weeks since the big fall. I'm not waiting for things to get better, they just are. But some of the big questions still remain. What am I moving towards? What's next.
It's been 11 months since I switched jobs, one month until I can finally celebrate a happy anniversary. One year since I finally started rowing again, one month until my big vacation. I don't know whats next, what I'm waiting for, or what I think is waiting for me. I guess for now, I'll just go with the flow, or in my case, with the breeze.
Happy Birthday
Friday, December 25, 2009
2009
“Think back one year.
What were the top 3 things you experienced? How did you grow? What did you learn? Who supported you? What did you transcend? What light came into your life?
What were the top 3 things you experienced? How did you grow? What did you learn? Who supported you? What did you transcend? What light came into your life?
I haven't had much time to write these past six months, but to stay in line with this time last year, I wanted to ask myself the same questions, and compare answers.
It's funny how some answers change so drastically while others stay the same. I stopped myself from reading the entire post, because I wanted to answer this year honestly. 2009 was interesting, from start to finish. The first day in January I spent jet-lagged in a pink dress.
Top 3 things experienced:
1. Finding myself on a bike ride through France, and being shockingly surprised, and happy to find the girl I used to know.
2. Breaking, but more importantly, healing when I didn't think it was possible.
3. Taking a risk and jumping.
It's funny how some answers change so drastically while others stay the same. I stopped myself from reading the entire post, because I wanted to answer this year honestly. 2009 was interesting, from start to finish. The first day in January I spent jet-lagged in a pink dress.
Top 3 things experienced:
1. Finding myself on a bike ride through France, and being shockingly surprised, and happy to find the girl I used to know.
2. Breaking, but more importantly, healing when I didn't think it was possible.
3. Taking a risk and jumping.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
near and far
There's been a lot of traveling in the midst as of late.
I just got back from Europe, spending 18 days throughout the Netherlands, Belgium, France and Italy. I had an amazing time. Stretching my wings and flying around, finding new faces and corners of the world that made it easier to smile, easier to breathe, and easier to write.
I managed to keep a journal to record thoughts here and there, pieces of scrap paper to remind me of moments, and a few scars on my legs (to add to the pile) that will still help me tell my story in years to come.
I haven't really written anything longer than a blog post, and if I have, I haven't shared it. Not even with my mother. Which says a lot. I'm always "writing in my head" as I tell my mother, when she finds me staring off into a rock, or a corner, or at my feet. She was really a sport while we were traveling around and I would spontaneously bolt for my bag, sit down and write for a minute.
That being said, I'm going to buckle down and write down the long version of my trip. Not that anyone needs to read it, but I need to get the words out of me and onto paper. Because honestly, I'm running out of room in the cramped space in my chest. And some thoughts and feelings should go recorded, even if it's just for me.
I've made a few trips that have changed my life. That sounds dramatic huh? But it's true. Hopefully, by the time this short story (?) is done it will cover events, the impact, and why any of it mattered. I read a book while I was riding the rail system about a women who was the first woman to row across the Atlantic ocean in a single. She said it wasn't enough to write about the rowing, she had to talk about the boat, the woman, and the ocean. And it's true.
To be continued...
pictures will be here soon! I know I always say that, but this time I promise
I just got back from Europe, spending 18 days throughout the Netherlands, Belgium, France and Italy. I had an amazing time. Stretching my wings and flying around, finding new faces and corners of the world that made it easier to smile, easier to breathe, and easier to write.
I managed to keep a journal to record thoughts here and there, pieces of scrap paper to remind me of moments, and a few scars on my legs (to add to the pile) that will still help me tell my story in years to come.
I haven't really written anything longer than a blog post, and if I have, I haven't shared it. Not even with my mother. Which says a lot. I'm always "writing in my head" as I tell my mother, when she finds me staring off into a rock, or a corner, or at my feet. She was really a sport while we were traveling around and I would spontaneously bolt for my bag, sit down and write for a minute.
That being said, I'm going to buckle down and write down the long version of my trip. Not that anyone needs to read it, but I need to get the words out of me and onto paper. Because honestly, I'm running out of room in the cramped space in my chest. And some thoughts and feelings should go recorded, even if it's just for me.
I've made a few trips that have changed my life. That sounds dramatic huh? But it's true. Hopefully, by the time this short story (?) is done it will cover events, the impact, and why any of it mattered. I read a book while I was riding the rail system about a women who was the first woman to row across the Atlantic ocean in a single. She said it wasn't enough to write about the rowing, she had to talk about the boat, the woman, and the ocean. And it's true.
To be continued...
pictures will be here soon! I know I always say that, but this time I promise
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
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