Posted on January 23, 2015
My son, Keith, and his partner gave me a subscription to “Bon Appetit” as a Christmas gift. They also had a subscription, and the idea was that we would choose a recipe from each issue and make it in our respective kitchens miles apart, then compare notes.
It didn’t quite work that way on a monthly basis. But it worked often enough that we had an additional topic of conversation. Still, I wasn’t crazy about BA. I thought it was filled with ads, offered fancy recipes, and was somewhat high brow in its delivery. Haute cuisine chefs were always being featured.
But I stuck with it through 2014, and Keith and I made a few recipes together. It was great fun, mostly because of the communication with my son.
Now it’s January, 2015. Each of us has renewed our subscriptions to BA, as we call it. It’s taken me a while, but I actually look forward to receiving the magazine. I ignore the ads, study the fancy recipes and smile, and no longer feel as if they’re too high brow for my taste.
Part of my re-evaluation is that I’m no longer working, so there is time to play in the kitchen. Another part is that Earl is more than willing to play the role of “Sous Chef,” doing the tedious tasks I dislike. He’ll clean lettuce, slice colored peppers into strips, even shred zucchini.
So why wouldn’t I plan to continue exploring BA’s various recipes with both Keith and Earl at my side? No other chef is better attended.
See more 10 Minutes in category Dining/Food, Me/Family
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Posted on January 22, 2015
I don’t know how it started, but a few days ago the movie “Paddington” came on the radar and went viral in our coffee group.
So this afternoon two friends and I saw movie, although none of us remembers reading the books about a small talking bear from deepest, darkest Peru who journeys to London to find a new home.
You might think this is far-fetched, but the truth is Paddington has been around since he was first introduced by author Michael Bond in 1958, making him (the bear, not Bond) in the comfy-ness of middle age today. I looked him and his author up on Google® and recommend you do likewise if you want a true appreciation of this phenomenon, which reminds me in some ways of a latter day Winnie the Pooh.
I understand the movie isn’t in the lexicography of the original books. How could it be when it involves a villainess who wants to make Paddington into a taxidermy version and features such new London attractions as the Eye?
I appreciated how the movie recreated London, since I’d been there in late 2012 and could remember London Bridge, the Queen’s Guards, and the train stations. Each was lovingly rendered. But most of all, it was the bear that moved me from disbelief of a modernized plot to acceptance that this was merely the next volume in the revered series.
The movie used live actors and a digitized bear that truly looked real instead of animated characters all around. Paddington’s emotions, timing, and voice all worked. This isn’t to say the humans weren’t believable, but in the end one small bear who loves marmalade brought them along for the ride.
See more 10 Minutes in category Technology
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Posted on January 21, 2015
Years ago, when I was falling in love for the first or maybe the second time, someone gave me a black and white print with a beautiful butterfly on it that read, “If you love someone, set him free. If he doesn’t come back, he was never meant to be yours in the first place. But if he does, love him forever.”
I still have the print, although I’m not as attached to the sentiment. However, I saw an updated version on Facebook today that really shows how times have changed. I’ve copied it verbatim.
It reads: “If you like someone, set them free. If they comeback, it means nobody liked them. Set them free again.”
Aside from all the grammatical errors that replaced the sexist tone in the first saying, this one also has a point.
The butterfly was nowhere to be seen.
See more 10 Minutes in category Changing Scene
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Posted on January 18, 2015
On Sunday evenings I read the Chicago Tribune. At almost four dollars a pop for an out-of-town issue, you can be sure I read almost every word. Well, maybe not the car ads, but definitely the obituaries. And that’s how I learned that Ella Therese McCall died at age 87.
Ella McCall and I lost contact over thirty-five years ago, but I still save the thank you note she sent me for directing her fourth grade class’s first ever play in the late 1970s. I remember how important that was, not only for those children, but also for me.
I was newly divorced and needed a distraction. So I went to the local school to volunteer where my sons were enrolled. Neither son was in her class, which makes me wonder how she and I actually connected. Perhaps it was serendipity at its finest.
I’d always been a frustrated thespian and offered to produce a play using her students as the actors. If memory serves, it was “The Prince and the Pauper.” And even if memory is wrong, what I remember was what a roaring good time we all had. The teacher was supportive; the students were eager; the audience was appreciative. And I was thrilled to be involved in something related to acting. My previous years as a drama student and an active member of community theater weren’t in vain.
Fast forward a few months. My sons and I had moved, and they went to a different school. That was when Ella McCall – I called her Mrs. back then – wrote to tell me staff and students had asked if her current class would be putting on a production.
She and I both knew the answer. The moment had come and gone. But seeing her obituary in black and white made me smile again, then tear a little. Rest in peace, Ella McCall.
See more 10 Minutes in category Nostalgia
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Posted on January 17, 2015
No, that’s not a typo. It’s the number of classes I’ve taken so far in my builder’s licensing class. There are 86 to go.
So far the information hasn’t been that interesting, but I don’t fault the instructor, Sid. He made it clear in the first class that the entire course is geared to helping applicants pass the required state test before they can actually build or remodel something.
For instance, we have learned the difference between a department and a board, between laws and rules, between censure and competence. And we are currently reading the Residential Builder’s Laws and Rules. It’s not a cliff hanger by any means.
We have a syllabus, so I looked ahead to see when we move past the official jargon and into the nuts and bolts (no pun intended) of building. It will be a while because we have to hurdle civil rights, minimum wage law, and employing minors. Then we go into contracts, addenda and change orders, warranties and progress payments.
We’re a third of the way through the course before we get to such topics as masonry, tools, demolition, scaffolding, excavation, and trenching. Reading blueprints doesn’t appear until Lesson 54 while Lessons 55 through 87 are about carpentry and building construction.
The online course is designed so that you can’t skip around. Believe me, I checked that out. I can only hope that the boring stuff is first to get it out of the way, as I’m eager to visit Lowe’s and Home Depot to see actual construction materials up close and personal.
See more 10 Minutes in category Me/Family
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Posted on January 16, 2015
I’m reading “Babylon Revisited,” a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald that was originally published in the “Saturday Evening Post” in 1931. Yet, the story of a father’s efforts to regain his daughter, who is being raised by other family members, is relevant today.
A year ago a friend gave me a music book with six of Muzio Clementi’s sonatinas for the piano. It’s taken this long, but I’m finally up for the challenge and am working on the first one. I must learn more about Clementi.
Last night another friend and I shared more thoughts on our ongoing discussion about the meaning of friendship. You can find all kinds of cutesy one liners on the Internet, but I found the description in Wikipedia to be the best. It’s at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friendship.
There have been three spectacular sunsets this past week, and so far tonight promises a fourth. They go a long way to make winter easier on the psyche.
I’m finding a new trend in the world of writing. Authors and illustrators are mounting their own websites to promote their work even before it’s finished. I went to one writer’s site today (He will remain anonymous.) to find his list of work was “Coming Soon.” I went to another writer who basically had announced “I’m writing a book on writing.” I guess it’s the logical extension of the selfie society we live in, but it strikes me as a bit premature.
So that’s it. Four wonderful thoughts and one curmudge. Not bad for the work week.
See more 10 Minutes in category Things to Ponder
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Posted on January 15, 2015
Maybe you think you’ve had a great fried egg in some breakfast café or in your own kitchen. But I’m willing to bet that my fried egg is better than your fried egg, thanks to “Bon Appetit.”
My son Keith and I both subscribe to the trendy food magazine. Occasionally, we agree to make the same recipe and compare notes. I chose the olive-oil fried egg shown on Page 97 of the January issue and went to work.
You might ask, “What’s so challenging about frying an egg? It’s one main ingredient that cooks in some kind of oil and is splashed with salt and pepper to taste.” Until last night, I would have accepted that my choice for a culinary experience was on the rather wimpy side. No longer!
What was different? First, the skillet was sizzling hot, much hotter than I usually work with. Next the olive oil was also very hot, so when I added the egg there was this sputtering, splattering sound. The white of the egg almost danced. The instructions were salt and pepper the egg immediately and then leave it alone until the outer white part became crispy. I think that’s what contributed to the better taste. The white was crispy on the edges and creamy inside, while the yolk remained runny but not soupy. (These are all technical chef terms, of course.)
You have to understand that Earl loves eggs, so finding this recipe made both of us happy. In fact, he managed to eat three fried egg sandwiches to prove my point.
See more 10 Minutes in category Dining/Food
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Posted on January 13, 2015
Shalimar by Guerlain of Paris is the only cologne I’ve ever worn. My ex-husband gave it to me for the first time when we were in college. I wore it regularly through the early marriage years, the raising children years, and the life after divorce years.
When my son Keith was an exchange student in France, I visited him and purchased a new bottle of Shalimar in Paris. He said the clerk was very snobby to this American customer, but I didn’t notice because it was such a pleasure to purchase my signature cologne in its signature home. I also met a young friend of Keith’s, Vero, that year. It was twenty-five years ago.
However, I stopped wearing perfume along the way. Maybe it was that others have allergies to various scents. Maybe it was because I’d become more simple in my dress. Maybe it was for some unremembered reason.
Still every once in a while I’d splash on some Shalimar, and each of my sons on different occasions would say, “You smell the way I remember you when I was growing up.”
Fast forward to yesterday, and what should arrive on my doorstep but a new bottle of the cologne, a gift from Vero, the woman I call my “French daughter,” the one from Keith’s foreign exchange days. We’ve visited each other often, but not as regularly as we’d like.
So I’ve invited her and her partner Patrick to share next Christmas with us. Whether they can or can’t, I think I’ll return to using Shalimar.
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Posted on January 12, 2015
In 1977, when I purchased my first condo in Chicago Earl presented me with a hard hat to honor the occasion. It’s followed me ever since and hidden out in more than one closet.That was six residences ago.
Today I rescued it from its current hiding place and put it in a spot of honor in my office. It is to remind me that I’m serious about my unexpected New Year’s resolution to obtain a Michigan Builder’s License. (See January 2 blog.) After all, the hard hat looks almost new, and I want to do something about that.
I started by finishing the first online lesson of my builder’s class. There are eighty-nine to go, so I need to do at least a couple every week to finish this year, take the qualifying test, and obtain my state license.
I’m not sure I really want to build a house, but it does seem like a logical extension of my many moves and many homes. I’ve built out condos in Chicago, gutted rooms to the studs in St. Joseph, and generally love to create a unique living space. I just haven’t done a project from the foundation up.
And even if we decide to build a house, I’m not sure I want to be on ladders pounding nails at this age. Still, whoever builds the house for us won’t be able to use shortcuts. My hard hat and I will be there watching.
See more 10 Minutes in category Changing Scene
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Posted on January 11, 2015
After my experience at the Olive Garden yesterday, I’ve taken to wondering how previous generations felt about the inventions in their lifetimes that threatened what they knew best.
Did farmers think motorized vehicles were silly when horses could pull surreys to church? Did authors think the typewriter robbed them of the creative act of writing? And what about television, the precursor of the technology we have today?
I grew up in a world where automobiles had overtaken the horse and the typewriter was morphing into the computer. As for television, well, the little seven inch screen that my mother had when I was ten would probably be consigned to the Smithsonian if it were able to be found. That was at the middle of the last century.
Most things we take for granted weren’t even invented twenty-five years ago, much less fifty. Add to that the notion that information is expanding exponentially, and it’s no wonder that someone born in the middle of the last century might feel obsolete.
It’s not that I don’t embrace the “new”; it’s just that there are certain things about the “old” I want to keep. Mostly they center on human connectedness.
Time was when people sat down to a meal and talked with each other instead of texting and Googling®. I understand today’s family often has two working parents and less time to make dinner a social occasion; but I liked it better that way.
Time was when life was less frenetic because there were fewer distractions from text messages, cell phone calls, Facebook, etc. I use all these things, but I like it better when someone calls my landline and I sit down to a tethered chat. I give my full attention.
Time was when everything wasn’t “instant.” George Carlin once wondered why there was one-hour photo processing when you just left the people you photographed. Now everything is in real time, and one hour is an eternity. I liked it better the other way.
I suspect that as time passes I’ll feel more and more disenfranchised. Less and less savvy. Maybe even more disgruntled. The question is: Is this fine with me?
And the answer is a resounding “Yes.”
See more 10 Minutes in category Changing Scene, Nostalgia
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