February 21, 2013 § 16 Comments
Decidedly not a beauty queen this one. She’s all lumpy and monochromatic. But the frumpy exterior conceals a heart packed with flavor.
And truly, on most days at least, who really wants a gorgeous but high maintenance looker of a dish when in a few minutes you could instead have one of the most incredibly easy and tasty lunches (or dinners, but I always seem to eat it for lunch) known to man.
And it uses up some leftovers too. That’s always good.
I never used to like fried rice that much, actually. I didn’t dislike it, I just saw no reason to eat it. I never saw what others seemed to see in it.
So for years I would scrupulously cook rice in small quantities so as never to have leftovers. Or, if there were leftovers, I would turn them into a porridge-like pudding for breakfast, and never think about the possibility that I was missing something. « Read the rest of this entry »
October 30, 2012 § 21 Comments
Well, sheesh. What can you say really? I must admit, I’ve been saying for the past several years that one of these days a hurricane was going to swamp New York, and then we’d finally really have to take the weather seriously and get over the idea that we’re somehow in control. But, gosh, I never ever ever ever ever ever ever (ever ever ever ever) wanted to actually be right.
I hope all of you dear people on the East Coast are doing alright.
I was on pins and needles all yesterday, all night, all this morning, texting, and emailing, and waiting to hear news from my brother and friends in New York, my good friends in Boston, Joel’s aunt and uncle in New Jersey. I sure wish something could actually be accomplished through waiting and worrying! Thankfully, it sounds like so far everyone, though without power, is generally unscathed.
I guess that right there is a little piece of grace in the midst of another big old mess. I try to hold on to the hope that there’s always something to be thankful for, and believe there actually is, even though I’m sure that hope feels like it’s slipped away a bit through their fingers for some people. « Read the rest of this entry »
July 17, 2012 § 38 Comments
“They say it’s your birthday, dadadadada, and you’re gonna have a good time da-da daaadada…”
Yup, it’s my birthday. Which means I get to eat and drink and do and say whatever I please, right? As long as it is lunch with a friend, lots of iced coffee, going to meetings, and hopefully nice things, I guess.
Birthdays somehow don’t have the same extreme importance or conjure the same desperate hope that they once did. I remember when I was young being quite unable to sleep the night before my birthday. My little body simply couldn’t contain the intensity of the excitement for the coming big day. Of course, my birthdays no longer include pouncing on my parents at 6am to get my presents, crazy themed parties (ranging from “makeovers” to “5,000 things to do with stamps” to “the Wild West”) with friends, or secret hopes of having a Barbie Cake even though I knew we would be be having Norwegian birthday cake, no other option (and I was secretly glad for that as well).
After childhood ebullience, I also went through a phase of bemoaning my birthday. Not in the “woe is me, I’m getting older” sense, but rather moaning produced by a teenage angst-filled haze of mopiness. “I’m not special, nobody’s special. Everybody has a birthday, it happens every year. Thousands of other people have their birthday on this day too. This is stupid, leave me alone…But can I have some cake?” That sort of thing.
Now I’d say I neither eagerly anticipate nor dread my birthday. I enjoy it. It’s my birthday. But, I’m inclined toward keeping it simple. Low key cookouts with friends, baking my own cake, and no presents please. Well, unless you really want to. 🙂 But, on the whole I selfishly prefer giving presents to receiving them. It’s selfish, because I am always so thrilled and grateful to receive a gift I never quite know how to respond, and then I get embarrassed, and I don’t like being embarrassed (who does, really?). « Read the rest of this entry »