dearest john

You are gone; left this Earth here in this November, just as you said the docs predicted it might be, way back in the year prior.

Everything seems wrong, yet right.

I, and I know I speak for Breezy, barely knew you, kind Sir, but feel we knew you on a level truer than we do many friends we spend many happy-hours with...

Though we never met, your soul and spirt was shown to us across the distance from your small hometown in Mississippi to our large Dallas metroplex. 

Both were visible in your hands, whether petting a dog or uniquely strumming a guitar. Your soulful eyes with an eye for others' emotions was visible in your art. Your innate southern gentleman persona could not hide under the occasional political Facebook tirade, even not giving a fuck, or two, just two days before you left us.

It's ironic that Breezy had posted about the power of social media to connect us - strangers - in the most unexpected and amazing ways. And that Helen and Joe proposed we bring you to Dallas next visit, next spring... We were all, all in.

Now, we are sad. We will be for a long, thought-provoking while. 

But we are happy knowing that you loved, leaving in a place so special to you. We hope you felt how special you were to us. 

thunder and lightning

Sitting here in the wee hours, I don't want to cry but it happens.

I used to tell Spoke what it was like to feel a period coming on... "It's like a storm is building," I'd say. "You feel it coming and you wish it would just get here already; the sooner the better, so then it'll be gone."

That's what these days leading up to Thanksgiving feel like. Six years he's gone, this time. Six, the average number of my heavy menstrual days. HaHaHa.

But I am happy today. So happy! Never thought I would be. That I could be... 

There are people I wish could be happy for me. No joke.

Breezy (as I call this Love-of-Mine who makes me genuinely laugh), and I are popping into a church the day after this holiday, to light candles. For Spoke, for Hyme, for Frances, and for so many others. Too, too many others. 

Note: 40% chance of storms. But of course. HaHaHa.

mondays

W,  as most of you know I call her in print, is at her place today and tonight. I am here at mine.

Our adobe and bistro, as they are affectionately known, are to each our own. I've never written about them as such till just now; 'to each our own'. Hmm...

It sounds quite separate. Distant. Cold.

So far from the truth. 

I love Mondays. It's a day apart after the weekends. I go back to book work, organizing the house, food prep work, contemplation. She goes back to desk work, artsy work, house/yard work, contemplation. The same but not.

Mondays remind me of how much I miss her. How much I love her. How much I wish she were here but glad she isn't. 

There it is again. Distant. Cold.

Makes me laugh. 

We are so close. Bare inches apart most often. Entangled. Tight in our thoughts. Mondays let us come up for air. I can think clearer in the few hours alone. So can she. Much, so much good comes from the brief time apart.

Mondays, by their end though, make me long for Tuesdays. 

what's in your fridge and pantry?

Funny I'm focused on writing recipes for others, when I've reached a point in my own kitchen where, baking excluded, I rarely use them. My approach is based on instinctual preferences from much I've learned and tasted and served over the years.

Example: I can now look at the head of cabbage I bought on a whim, knowing I have several ways to use it while it is fresh and without my tiring of it. I could make a rice wine vinegar Cole slaw to top blackened fish sandwiches, or bake sweet-and-sour cabbage rolls stuffed with rice-raisins-pistachios. I might toss crunchy cabbage shreds into a vegetable stir fry coming off the heat, or put cabbage chopped, in a pot for soup along with onion and white beans.

Prep work and planning that comes from intimately knowing my inventory, is my joy. Worth repeating; Is my joy! I make croutons if bread begins to dry out. I freeze all shrimp tails till I've enough to make stock. If there are a couple shallots on the rack and mint still growing in the patio pot, I'll make a quick tomato pasta sauce to freeze for a rainy night's dinner. I prefer my Herbs de Provence over any other blend. I haven't purchased bottled salad dressing in decades...

I am the home cook that chef and author Ronna Welsh hopes her readers will be. She wants you - us - to think of all foods in terms of their many possibilities, not as our Go-To for use in a few recipes. I feel I am very much already there but I know she has much to teach me. I am barely through a fourth of her wonderful book, The Nimble Cook.

She has a recipe, Seared Kale with Dates and Cream, which I got very excited about. I don't plan to make the recipe at all. I'm going to turn that (brilliant) rich combination of ingredients into a luscious penne pasta dish. Then I'll ever so joyfully, turn my attention to what to do with the likely large amount of remaining kale... 

I think the chef would be proud.