Tender and Succulent - The Brisket

There was always so much to be said, so much to learn, while the "chefs" were serving the brisket at our holiday dinner table!  My family always placed the brisket, beautifully sliced, perfectly arranged, on a serving platter worthy of the extraordinary honor.  The legend of the brisket, its meaning, was told with reverence every year as it was placed in the very center of the table, the adult table.  This crowning achievement, the brisket, was truly respected.  Although it was a huge slab of meat when purchased fresh from the butcher, by the time it was served, it was magically transformed into a tender, sweet, deep tasting entree.  


The brisket shrinks like crazy as it cooks, but every lost ounce is more than made up for by gained tenderness and good taste.  I suppose this makes the meaning of the brisket fairly obvious.  A raw piece of meat turns into a tender slice of heaven.  One of the main goals in anyone’s life is to deepen who you are, to learn and develop into the best you can be.  Maturing takes time, there is simply no getting around that, it can't be rushed.  You add insight, layers to your personality, through soaking up the experiences, the flavors, of life. To marinate and slowly cook the meat may be compared to maturing.  Time spent sitting, reading, absorbing, learning is never wasted.  That time awakens parts of your soul that you may not have otherwise paid attention to, parts that tenderize you and make you more empathetic and sympathetic.  A happily maturing person learns and softens; making him more palatable to the world, better able to provide enrichment to those around him. As we go through life, we may end up physically shrinking, yet if we’re absorbing knowledge we are enriching our core and becoming a contributing, wise, multi-layered, welcome addition to the world.  We become a contributing addition, someone who adds taste and fulfillment to the world just as a luscious brisket adds fulfillment to the meal, and is always welcome.  The importance of tenderness to maturing should never be overlooked, it should never be underestimated.


May your brisket be tender and your year be deeply enriching.

Ingredients

• 1 (5 or 6 pound) beef brisket
• salt and pepper to taste – I must admit, I’m a bit heavy-handed
• 3/4 cup Merlot wine
• 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
• 1/2 cup beef stock
• 1 (15 ounce) can stewed tomatoes or diced tomatoes
• 2 onions, sliced 
• 2 stalks celery – roughly chopped
• 3 large carrots – also roughly chopped
• 4 large cloves garlic, diced
• 1 teaspoon dried thyme or 1 sprig fresh thyme
• 1 teaspoon dried rosemary or 1 sprig fresh rosemary

 

Directions

1. Season the beef brisket with salt and pepper and place in a large resealable bag sitting in a shallow baking dish. Combine the Merlot and balsamic vinegar; pour in with the steak. Seal or cover, and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours – I like to marinate the brisket overnight.
2. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.
3. In the morning, or when the marinating is complete, remove the bag from the baking dish or roasting pan.  Arrange sliced onion rings in the bottom of the pan.. Season with garlic, thyme, and rosemary. Pour the marinade into the bottom of the pan along with the beef stock and tomatoes.
4.  Lay the roast on top of the onions and seasonings. Cover tightly with a lid or aluminum foil.   I can never find the right lid, so it’s aluminum foil for me!
5. Bake for 3 hours in the preheated oven, then peel back the aluminum foil and add carrots and celery to the pan. Cover again and continue roasting for an addition 1 to 2 hours.  The longer the brisket cooks, the better (for the most part).
6. I then like to let the meat cool.  After it’s cooled, I put it back into the refrigerator and chill it overnight.  The next day, while cold, I slice the brisket and then return it to the baking dish after trimming the fat from the gravy.
7. Once again, cover the meat and heat in a 300-degree oven for about 45 – 50 minutes or until hot.  This extra day guarantees a rich, tender, delicious brisket.

Next Course - More appetizers!

A hard-boiled egg and chopped liver, a piece of lettuce and a couple of cherry tomatoes, these were the culinary treats that greeted us next at our holiday dinner. Sitting grandly on the small flat plates of good china used only for such occasions, the egg and the liver were the next items served before the gefilte fish and then the main meal.  No wonder no one could move or even breathe after a holiday dinner!  My Grandmother always insisted that everyone must eat a hard-boiled egg.  She said it signified birth and the start of new adventures, something every year should hold to be fulfilling and complete.  That’s no yoke.  No really, she always said that.  The chopped liver, well, this is where the story gets a little nasty.  The liver digests all the poisons in a person’s body.  Now, I don’t know if my ancestors realized this, but they insisted on the presence of chopped liver because it signified making the most out of the crap life sometimes serves on your plate.  The fact that chopped liver is not only palatable, but also actually delicious, proves that by adding good things to something not obviously pleasant, many things in life may just come out better than hoped or expected.

The combination of the egg and liver, that special mix, also held significance.  Although making the correlation wasn’t obvious to me, my Mom, my Grandmother and my Aunts, did make their story meaningful. Apparently, the significance behind serving these two foods together was quite clear. According to ‘the ladies’, every new life will encounter bad or difficult times, hardships and sorrow.    The trick, the secret to a happy life, is to search for the good, to always find a way to turn rotten, unfortunate experiences into entirely new occurrences by consistently adding new, positive ingredients to your life.

The lettuce and the tomato, let’s not forget them!  After all, everything held significance.  The presence of the crisp, green lettuce leaf with the vibrant red tomato was evidence that in both good and bad times, you should always try to look your best! (Spruce yourself up, they would say.)  It will make you and everyone around you feel better! 

So, feel good, look good, be positive, and have a wonderful New Year!

Recipe for Chopped Liver:

2 pounds chicken livers

3 eggs

3 onions, 2 of them finely chopped

1-quart chicken broth

1-pint water

2 to 3 teaspoons vegetable oil

Salt and Pepper to taste – don’t go too light on this

Directions:

-       Boil the livers, the eggs and one whole onion in the chicken broth.  After coming to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 60 to 75 minutes.

-       Once boiling is complete, allow the ingredients to completely cool.

-       Fry the chopped onions in the vegetable oil until caramelized (use low heat).

-       Grind the cooled ingredients together, season with salt and pepper.  Serve cold.

Wishing everyone a Sweet and Healthy New Year!!

The Jewish High Holidays begin tonight.  This is an especially beautiful time as it marks the day G-d opens the Book of Life.  Through reflection, prayer, offering apologies and forgiveness, the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when G-d closes the Book of Life, the chance to request a good year for yourself and those you love is possible.  May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life for a sweet, healthy year. 

Now, that being said, let it be known that although I am Jewish, I was not raised religiously.  I am proud of my Jewish heritage, but I am not the one to come to for any real information regarding the High Holidays.  Growing up, the Holidays in my house were celebrated with family coming together, the small ones at the “kids’ table”; everyone laughing heartily and eating huge portions!  This tradition continued as I grew older and my own children sat at the “kids’ table”. Now we will hopefully only add more and more family and friends to our celebrations.

There were many traditions that we followed at each and every holiday dinner.  One was having a story for each of the beautifully prepared foods at the table.  I will offer one story here, more will follow as the week progresses.  Please remember, NOT ONE of these stories has any religious meaning; they were all purely ways for my family to offer life lessons.

I will begin with the matzo ball soup, since that was usually the first course.

Served out of a steaming pot, the matzo ball soup was always a main attraction.  Matzo meal, being made up of ground up matzo, is the main ingredient of the Matzo ball.  Now, to those not familiar with this dry, tasteless cracker, please note it has all the flavor of mashed cardboard.  Because of this, it was always a challenge, throughout history, to make anything with matzo taste palatable.  Mothers and Grandmothers were either praised or shunned for their matzo balls.   Children grew up knowing they had to believe their family recipe had all the qualities for the best matzo balls in the neighborhood.  Some families like heavy matzo balls some cherish light ones.  This argument over heavy or light occurs whenever a new family member is introduced, as in an upcoming marriage.  If you didn’t say, and truly believe, your Mom or Grandmother made the best matzo balls that was not only a slight to their cooking, but to their entire maternal capabilities!  Now, my Mother never really cared about this.  She made matzo balls, once, from scratch, and they tasted like hot dogs.  How that happened, we’ll never know, but, my Grandmother…now, her matzo balls………………………. 

The stories surrounding the matzo ball soup were many.  Matzo ball soup would be served at my Aunt Marilyn’s house at the beginning of every holiday meal.   My family would tell the tale of why matzo balls were round, as if anyone could make them square?!  To hear them say it, matzo balls are round to signify the complete circle of the year; the passage of time.  They needed to be not too heavy and not too light because your year should be balanced.  There should always be pleasure, yet to appreciate the pleasure, a little hard work should be thrown in.   The broth the balls floated in needed to be full-bodied.  The broth needed big pieces of chicken and lots of carrots.  Once again, this was always told that we should “only have abundance”.  You “should never know from want”.  When matzo ball soup was served at holidays other than Passover, the soup always had to include noodles.  The reason?  You were always to use your noodle, your brain, whenever possible!  Little flakes of parsley would float recklessly throughout the soup.  Some flakes would stick to the matzo balls, some to the carrots.  The meaning, quite obvious, a few flakes in your life will only add character.  Everything, everyone, has something good to add, everything holds value – we were always told to never forget that and to appreciate all that life has to offer.

Recipe for Matzo Ball Soup

Ingredients:

Soup:

1 onion chopped

2 stalks celery

3 carrots

2 cloves garlic

10 cups chicken broth or vegetable broth….I use a combination of both.

2 tablespoons butter

Salt and Pepper to taste

¾ cup orzo pasta (omit if being used at Passover)

2 boxes matzo ball mix

Matzo Balls

I purchase a boxed mix for the matzo balls.  It’s easy and delicious.

Directions:

 Make Matzo Balls according to package instructions and place in refrigerator while soup is being prepared.

Meanwhile, in melted butter and crushed garlic, sauté chopped onions, chopped celery, chopped carrots in large pot.  Once the vegetables are soft and onions translucent, add the chicken broth (either home made or store bought).  Add pasta to the broth.

When soup reaches boiling point, roll matzo balls according to package directions and place in broth.  Reduce heat to low and simmer for approximately 15 to 20 minutes. 

*Note:  Please remember, when storing left over soup, separate the matzo balls from the soup or you will end up with HUGE balls and no liquid.

May you all be inscribed in the Book of Life for a Sweet, Wonderful Year!

My “All My Children” Family

For the last forty-one years I have lived with, cried with, and laughed with my All My Children family.  Since 1970, when I was a 12-year-old Junior high school student, the soap, All My Children, has been part of my life.  ABC’s decision to cancel the drama is comparable to losing touch with close family, close friends. 

By watching this amazing drama unfold over these many years I have watched and learned that each of us has the capacity for incredible good and unbelievable evil.  The characters were so deeply developed that they truly felt real.  Watching them grow and change, seeing how external situations were interpreted offered a deeper understanding to all of humanity.  I’ve observed the power of love and community.  I’ve witnessed how those qualities not only help ease hard times but also offer hope of a brighter tomorrow.  I feel as though I have experienced so much with those who lived in Pine Valley.  After 41 years of spending every afternoon with them, how could I feel otherwise?

All My Children has tackled some very difficult social issues.  Race relations, homosexuality, struggles of our veterans, rape, murder, crimes of hate, crimes of passion, sickness and adultery were all handled with honesty and truth.  The pain caused by each issue was not avoided, but unfolded in such a way that the viewer could relate, possibly for the first time, to issues that were never given much attention before, never truly thought about, in our daily lives. 

On days when I felt alone, at 1 PM I could turn on All My Children, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t alone anymore!  My friends and family were right there!  When I was a new Mom, Brooke English had just given birth to her daughter, Laura, on the show.  I had someone I could relate to.  I had adult conversation in the house, when that was otherwise not easy to find.  Role models, living lives of what could be aspired to were all around.  The strength and ability of the characters to rise above adversity and flourish, will these attributes be found on a cooking show?  Of course not!!

I am sad for the stories that will not continue.  Stories so familiar to me, I feel  as though I can reach out and touch them.  Zach and Kendall, Brooke and Adam, Erica and Jackson, Angie and Jessie, Jake and Amanda, Tad and Dixie.  And what about all their children?  Mostly, however, I am sad for my fellow viewers.  To all of us who incorporated All My Children into our daily lives, who grew up right along with the characters, who enjoyed their companionship through four decades of our lives, I share my sorrow.

Future generations of television watchers will never know the comfort found with this daily, consistent companionship and humanity that All My Children provided.  I certainly hope All My Children continues on-line.  Network television is digging their own grave with their thirst to save money, their willingness to provide the drivel that is a cooking show when there is an entire channel donated to such programming.  Of course they won’t have to pay for writers, actors, sets, wardrobe, etc….all they’ll need is some cookware and a stove, I hope they know how many of us refuse to watch.

My DVR will no longer be running at 1 PM.  My daughter and I, who watched All My Children together every evening, will have to turn to old episodes on Youtube.  My daughter has been watching the show her entire life ~ even before she knew it, it was on!

To all those who worked on All My Children, please know how deeply you will be missed. The world does not need another inexpensive, empty cooking show telling us how to quickly put dinner on the table.  We’ve been accomplishing that ourselves for years.  What the world does need is more evidence of the power of love and community.  We need to realize that all the world’s children ARE All My Children.

ABC has committed a great disservice.  They have rewarded our 41 years of loyalty with a smack in the face.  The bruise they have caused will not heal easily.  Even Dr. David Hayward will be unable to breath life back into this dead network.

Thank you Agnes Nixon, for all the years you’ve welcomed us as visitors to Pine Valley.  It has been a true pleasure and honor to know you and all your children!

An Explosive Kitchen!!

This was not a good week for baking dishes in my house.  Something in the cosmos declared that all my favorite cookware was to disappear.  Perhaps a precursor to the satellite falling to earth, maybe these explosions are telling me something!  Perhaps I should duck!!

It started early in the week with my desire to make a kugel. I took out my cherished kugel baking dish, one I received over 32 years ago from my Dad’s sister as an engagement present.  The dish has traveled with me from my first apartment through 3 houses and has held dishes from kugels to brownies, to lasagnas.  It’s always the perfect size, always waiting to serve something warm and delicious to those I love so much!!

I needed to boil a pot of water to cook the noodles.  Easy enough you would think, and not even challenging (usually).  I filled the pot with water, added salt, and ambitiously decided to throw in a load of laundry while the water was coming to a boil, no sense wasting time, there's always so much to do!!  Burner on, I went upstairs to gather the laundry basket.  Wow, it was full!!  I schlepped it down to the laundry room, pulling the basket behind me on the stairs.  The basket was overflowing; carrying it was impossible, as not only could I not lift it, I couldn’t see over it!  No, I never thought to sort it upstairs…  Bump, bump, bump…the laundry basket pounded each step on the way down, assorted socks and underwear falling off the side with each clump. 

After successfully making it to the laundry room, I turned on the washing machine and started sorting the clothes, quite relaxing actually.  Suddenly, Ka Boom!! Ka Bam!!  Ka Boom!! I could hear chards of something hard smashing into the walls of the kitchen!  I had no idea what could be happening so I ran up to the kitchen to find my favorite baking dish in huge chunks all around the room, with one particularly large piece smack up against the back of the stove!  It was then that I realized I had put the wrong burner on and had mistakenly heated the empty baking dish that was on the stovetop waiting to be filled!  The heat apparently built, and since I wasn’t watching, (how stupid am I), the pot truly exploded, like a bomb!  Luckily, no one was in the kitchen at the time, because the explosion was so strong there were sharp pieces of ceramic all over the kitchen, the counter, the floor across the room, the cabinets!!  Meanwhile, the water was still sitting, innocently in the pot, ice cold.  Amazingly, not one chunk had hit or moved that pot.

With great care, as they were still extremely hot and sharp, I picked up the pieces of the once cherished baking dish.  I am so thankful no one was hurt, so thankful no one was in the kitchen at the time, but I will miss that dish.  That particular dish was always filled with much more than food; it was filled with memories.

Later that week I made oven baked chicken.  My Mother-in-law had received a Pyrex baking dish that included a lovely palm tree lined serving platter, she doesn’t cook much anymore and never even opened the box, so she graciously gave the dish to me.  It was perfect because it made trivets unnecessary; the pan could be slipped into the fitted serving dish and placed directly on the table. 

I tried a new recipe for oven-fried chicken.  Instead of egg and breadcrumbs, I read that if you dip the chicken in ranch dressing and then coat it with a mixture of crushed Durkee fried onions rings and flour, it bakes up delicious and crispy.  I patiently coated each breast with the dressing, dipped it in the breading and placed it in the baking dish.  The oven was preheated and the chicken cooked all the way through to a crispy deliciousness.  Really, try the recipe.

When I was ready to serve dinner, I decided not to use the sleeve and just to serve the chicken on a platter.  So, with my trusty spatula, I removed the chicken from the Pyrex dish and arranged it on as beautifully as I could…plating it as they call it on the cooking shows!

I brought the chicken along with the rest of the dinner to table.  It was then that I decided to soak the dishes used to cook dinner while we were eating since some of them looked like they could use the time in soapy water.  I tapped the Pyrex dish with my hand to see if it was still hot, it was not.  It was cool enough that I picked it up with my hands, no oven glove needed.  I slid the pan into the sink and before I could turn the water on, the Pyrex dish completely exploded!!  I couldn’t believe it!  Pieces of Pyrex shot against the side of black porcelain in my sink!  Thankfully, not one piece flew up high enough in the air or I would have had shrapnel lodged in my head!  I later read that there was a problem with Pyrex made for sale in the United States – temperature changes, even mild ones, could make the dishes explode.  Not a good selling feature.

Serving piece two, gone.

Finally, later in the week, I baked brownies with a white casserole dish that I had purchased on sale.  (I normally would have used my casserole dish from my aunt, but it had already exploded!)  This dish was also lovely, and had it not been for the amazing sale at Bloomingdales', I never would have been able to purchase it.  The scalloped trim made anything served in it look professional and appetizing.  It was also a perfect size and I used it often.  I don’t know exactly how it happened, but after removing the leftover brownies the next day, it was time to clean the dish.  You would think, after the week I’d had, I would have been extra careful!!  But, while loaded with soapy water, the beautiful white casserole simply slipped out of my hands and smashed into the sink as if it had been dropped from an airplane.  It split, amazingly loudly, into three huge chunks.  I looked into the sink and could not believe I had done it again!  What is the Universe trying to tell me?

Perhaps I should be more worried about that satellite crashing to earth today!  Wait, I just read that the satellite crashed, earlier today, into the Pacific Ocean.  Honestly, the way my week is going up to this point, I am relieved.

It's Not Easy ~

Yesterday, I was the one in charge at the store where I work since both the Manager and the Assistant Manager needed to attend an all day meeting.  While at the register, the “Red Bull” distributer came in to remove out-dated bottles and fill the cooler with new.  When it came time to sign for the delivery, the system was totally new.  An impressive, computerized system the size of an IPod.  I mentioned this to the gentleman and didn’t expect the in-depth, gut-wrenching reaction I received.

Apparently, this gentleman was in the early part of his very first day back to work and was just learning this new system himself.  Six weeks before, he stepped off his truck and did not see a huge hole that was right under his bottom step. He fell, breaking his ankle and tearing ligaments.  He had been out of work, on workmen’s’ compensation, since that day.  Although not completely healed, he needed to return to work as the workmen’s compensation had ended. His wife had also been laid-off (I can relate) and they desperately needed the money to stay in their house and eat!

He told me this job was already a step down financially from his previous employment.  He had worked in sales before, a far more lucrative position, and had been laid-off when that company downsized.  Familiar.  With both he and his wife having career issues, he took whatever job he could and was appreciative for the opportunity.  His wife’s unemployment, like mine, had been suddenly cut off when for a brief moment the unemployment rate in our state went below a certain number.  How ridiculous.  But, a republican governor and a republican legislature certainly are not about to extend benefits, no matter what it does to hard working Americans who lost their jobs in an awful economy due to no fault of our own.

So, here we were, two people now off the unemployment roles, not counted in the numbers.  One working part-time and one working full-time but both definitely under-employed.  Most Americans like us are trying to find work that is more livable, but it’s either not out there or there are five candidates applying for every opening.  Companies are working their employees’ crazy hours because they know the employees have nowhere to go; they are stuck.  Instead of hiring more workers, the companies simply work their present employees to the bone, why not; it helps their bottom line. (At least for the time being.)

Corporations are sitting on a ton of profit, not hiring.  With the unemployed not receiving benefits, with those who gain employment working for half or a quarter of what they earned before, no one is spending, so what will raise the demand that is needed to get this economy rolling again and force corporations to hire out of sheer necessity?  There is only one answer and that is the government.  Unemployment benefits need to be extended until the crisis is over, jobs, yes government jobs, need to be added to put people to work so they have money in their pockets.  It is the only plan that makes sense.  Cutting back now is ridiculous; worrying about the deficit now is like worrying about a stain on your new carpet while your house is burning down, truly insane.  Until the fire is extinguished, the carpet is the least of your worries. 

I’m sorry, I have tried to keep politics out of this blog, but the heartbreaking story I heard yesterday has forced me to relinquish that rule.  I am tired of being blamed for being unemployed, being looked down upon when former co-workers stop by the store. Their look of pity along with their look of relief that they are not in my position is upsetting to say the least. I am lucky, my husband can support us, but not many families are in this same position – or both spouses have been laid-off! Heaven forbid!

It’s time to stop playing politics with peoples’ lives.  Decent, honest, hard-working Americans are out here looking for a career; one they can devote their intelligence and hard work to every day.  Why do some insist on making US the enemy?

The All Powerful Hug

If we are lucky, we are born with so much to make life amazing.  The sense of taste, smell, sight, hearing and touch all contribute to each and every minute.   As we go through life we use all of these senses.   Yet all of them, except one, change as we travel life’s journey.  There is one sense, which is amazingly in tune throughout our lives - the sense of touch.

As babies, being held is how we are comforted from unknown upset.  Being held cements the bonds we have with our parents or other caregivers.  We are comforted by touch throughout our lives; in celebration, in greeting, in mourning, no matter the event, a hug goes further than words to connect us to each other by establishing a warmth only found in caring, only found through our humanity. 

As we age, the other senses commonly diminish.  We lose our distinct senses of taste, hearing, smell and eyesight.  They all seem to lessen over time.  But, our sense of touch does not decrease, in fact, sometimes a hug or a squeeze of the hand can strengthen even our oldest or sickest of loved ones.  I don’t know the scientific reason for this, it certainly goes far beyond my expertise, but I’ve seen it and I wonder.

Could it be that the sense of touch is our sense of continuity, of community, the one sense that firmly establishes and validates that we are here, we are cared for, we are loved, we belong?  Is the sense of touch so vital to our lives that nature guarantees its significance by starting us off in life appreciating it, and ending our lives in the exact same manner? 

This past weekend was the celebration of my brother’s marriage to his new bride.  It was a lovely party and one where many of us had the chance to reconnect with people we just don’t have the chance to see often enough.  For some reason, the warmth of each hug really struck me.  Of course everyone could have said hello, seen each other, heard each other, but that was obviously not enough.  I looked around and all I saw were people smiling, hugging each other, and sharing a kiss on the cheek.  It was wonderful and heart-warming.

That’s when it really hit me, that we are all together.  All of us are truly in the same boat.  We all have the same need to be part of something greater, to be attached and to feel that attachment.

A friend recently told me that our lives are like a water bubble on a wave in the ocean.  We start as part of the ocean, the wave rises and for a brief moment we are above the ocean, our own unique shape and form, we continue our rise above the wave as a distinct water bubble until gravity hits and we once again crash down to become part of the ocean.  We are always there, before, during and after, all part of the one form.  Our sense of touch is our connection to all of this.  Through touch we complete the chain of life; we are always a part of humanity.  Hopefully, this connection will help us all to realize that not only are we not alone, we are a part of something wonderfully splendid.  Perhaps our hugs will help us see, as Hillary Clinton stated, “It takes a village”, and each of us is an integral part of the village, held together by our never-ending sense of touch.

Non-Stop Laughing!!!!

It’s the first day of my new job.  It's important to make a good first impression since my daughter found this position for me.  What is the job you ask?  Well, I now work for a gaming company.  My main responsibility is to supply the verbal reactions when someone beats a level.  Funny job, but it pays extremely well. My honest reactions to victory are captured for the audio in order for the game to sound real while it is being played.  Apparently, this is quite necessary for the monetary success of the game!

Anyway, in order to have an authentic reaction, I need to actually play the level and beat it.  To do this, I must pick the one picture out of five given that a majority of people polled found to be the funniest of all the pictures.  Truly, that is the entire game!  On the first try, five pictures appear on my screen.  I pick the one I find to be the funniest.  It is not the right one and I lose the level.  A sad two notes play, doo doo.  A disappointed little bird character appears.  I must try again.

This goes on for about four tries.  On the fifth try, five new pictures appear on my screen.  The one I find funniest is a picture of a man dressed in a moose costume.  He is doing an extremely silly dance, every part of his body moving in crazy ways, fingers pointing up, head dashing from side to side!  The headpiece is the only part of the moose costume that is not complete; instead the head of an old high school friend on mine, who I haven’t seen in years, appears! Apparently, not only do I find this hysterical, but also everyone polled found it so, too.  It is the right picture.  I am laughing and laughing and laughing…and I am relieved I have finally beaten the level!  No sad bird appearing now!!

At this point, I wake up.  Yes, this entire scenario has been a dream!  There is only one problem, (assuming you don't find the weirdness of the dream alarming in itself) I find I am still laughing hysterically!  I try to cover my mouth so I don’t wake my husband, but I am vibrating so hard from my laughter that he wakes up anyway; he is confused.  With a bit of fear in his voice, he quietly asks, “What in the world are you doing?”  Well, his question makes me laugh harder!  Tears are streaming down my face.  The more I think about how ridiculous this whole picture is, the more I laugh!  The more I laugh, the more I laugh and all that makes me laugh more!! 

I can’t stop laughing!!  I go into the bathroom to put water on my face and try to calm down.  Looking at myself in the mirror, with my hair askew and my eyes puffy from tears…I laugh some more!  I try to gain control, but it is useless.  Leaning on the counter, with my head in my hands, I just keep laughing!  I look at the clock, I’ve been up, laughing, for 25 minutes!

Finally, I gain control and slowly, quietly walk back to bed.  I sneak under the covers.  Just as I close my eyes, my husband pokes his head up and asks again what made me so hysterical?  That’s all he needed to do, the laughter takes control again, and I am lost in a vibrating heap of giggles, tears streaming down my face, wetting my pillow.  

I don’t know if this has happened to anyone else, and being that I am in my early 50’s and this is the first time it has happened to me, I honestly believe it is not all that common.  At this point, I was afraid to look it up on the Internet; it would probably say I have some dreaded disease.

I had forgotten all about this episode of hysterical laughing until last night.  Last night, it happened again!!  This time, I don’t remember the whole story of the dream as clearly as I did the first time.  I only remember that once again it was my daughter who was in the dream with me.  She handed me something flat, about an inch long, something that looked like it fell off a tree branch.  While handing it to me, she made what was apparently a hysterically funny remark.  Whatever it was she said in the dream made me belly laugh.  Once again, as it did two months ago, this laughing carried over to the point where I woke up with the vibrating, guffawing that just couldn’t be stopped!  I think I’m going crazy…either that, or the crazy hormones of a mid-life woman are kicking in and instead of hot flashes and night sweats, I get laughter!

Well, I just gave in and looked it up on the Internet…apparently; it’s not all that uncommon!  Relief!  Perhaps it’s just a way to let anxiety out, or perhaps it is hormonal…but, in any case, at least it didn’t say I had some rare lunatic disease only found in short, middle-aged women with curly hair!

Every time I think about my husband’s reactions and the visual of my face in the bathroom mirror, I laugh again!  I certainly do hope laughter is the best medicine!  If so, perhaps I’m cured! ~

My friends, My Support

I am so thankful and appreciative - I have the best friends in the world!  Two days ago I was stressed to the breaking point.  I could explain what I was upset about, but in truth, the facts behind the angst don’t really matter.  Suffice it to say that I was overwhelmed with requests and demands, something I’m sure everyone deals with from time to time.  With thoughtless comments, what should be a request becomes a demand that falls solely to me.  With no appreciation and no consideration, those ‘requests’ become overwhelming.

I could feel the steam building.  The pressure and lack of respect was reaching a boiling point.  Losing control wouldn’t be good for anyone, especially me.  Thankfully, I turned to my relief valve, my solid arsenal of friends.  A group of women who are in the same boat; dealing with many of the same issues.  Women who listened and really heard me, truly understood, and honestly offered both advice and compassion.  The ability to verbalize my feelings without worry for how I sounded was all I needed.  I could feel the pressure easing and the steam releasing, explosion avoided.

How can I stress the importance of my friends in my life?  Where would I be without their support and love?  This blog is dedicated to each and every one of them.  To the women in my life who take the time out of their hectic day to lend an ear and let me speak, I thank you.  To my friends and to my special beautiful cousin (you know who you are) who hear me out and who give me freedom to just spew without feeling self-conscious, I love you. To my husband, daughter and son who listen and live these experiences with me, you are my heart.

This morning I had the pleasure of meeting one of my amazing friends for coffee.  She listened to my frustrations and as my tears welled up, she offered all I needed, her understanding and love.  How can you beat that?  Love, understanding with an onion bagel and coffee!  Life doesn’t get any better!

Thank you my friends.  I only wish everyone reading this would have the same supportive, loving, caring people in their lives as I do.  My friends certainly help make my world beautiful.  Perhaps if everyone had caring people in their lives the world wouldn’t be so harsh.   One can hope. 

A Blank Page

Here I sit, in front of a blank page.  It’s not that I don’t have any ideas of what to write about, actually, I have too many today.  Right now, it’s a matter of weeding out the more pressing thoughts from the ones that simply cloud the issues in my mind.

Obviously, the elephant in the room is 9/11, since that was yesterday.  I know most everyone in the world has written or spoken about the day, their reactions and thoughts about how life changed for all of us in an instant.   So much is poignant and interesting; how could I possibly add to what has already been written or stated?  Yet, everyone’s take on the day and its remembrances is different, as individual as each of us. 

The horrific tragedy of September 11^th, the hate that caused the tragedy, the fear and angst that crept into our hearts as we watched the towers come down and the Pentagon be hit, wondering what was next; those feelings are never far from the surface.  However, the bravery and valiant nature of the 1^st responders along with the instant fellowship of those who needed to rely on each other for survival, or hopes of survival, during the crisis, should never be glossed over.

People need other people. We are a social group, a society.  At times, we need each other for help, financial or emotional, to get over a rough spot, for a laugh, or just to listen.  At other times, we are needed to supply the same things in return.  That is the core of being human.  Sure, it’s great to say, “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps”, but there are times when you need help finding the darn things!  Some of us are extremely lucky, born to wealth, born with good health, born with sight, arms, legs and the ability to use them, born with close family…. others enter this world without those things or with only one or two.  But, selfishness is not the American way.  It is not a value we boast about, never has been and never will be.  It is the antithesis of all we are taught.

So, on this September 12^th, the day after, I hope we all remember that we are in this life together.  By helping others, we selfishly help ourselves.   Quite honestly, it feels amazing to lend a helping hand.  Just as it is better to give than to receive, it is better to help our fellow citizens, both home and around the world, than to ignore them, than to leave them in pain   We are all here for such a short time, whether it’s a minute or a 100 years.  I hope we can all work together for life, and all the promise it holds, as those brave patriots did on September 11^th, 2001.  By behaving in that manner, we really do defeat the hate of the terrorists.

Have a great September 12^th.  

The Angel, The Miracle

One morning, a few years ago, I woke to find a snow storm raging. It was apparent no one was leaving the house that day, the weather was simply too dangerous for travel.  I usually cook comfort foods all day during a storm so we have good food to enjoy together.  However, it was still very early in the morning and except for my husband and I, everyone else was sound asleep, with schools closed, there was certainly no need to wake anyone.

My night table is almost always overflowing with random objects, sometimes creating a bit of a mess.   Magazines, coupons, nail files and books may all be found there on any given day.  Every so often the odds and ends either reach a point of no return or  I find myself with time on my hands and the desire to straighten. This particular morning, I had extra time.  With this luxury of nowhere to rush off to, I went beyond what was sitting on my night table and decided to clear out years of accumulated knick-knacks inside the drawers. 

With determination, I started to empty the top drawer of the nightstand.  There were old receipts, thank you letters received and saved, rubber bands, pens, and a variety of random recipes and other assorted papers.  Each piece found warranted a bit of reflection and interest.  Hiding underneath one particular piece of paper, one with a print stamp of a few years earlier, was a battered, small, blue velvet box.   I had no idea what it contained or where it came from.  Gingerly, I picked it up.  Cradled inside the velvet was a beautiful angel.  She was about an inch and a half long. I picked her up and removed her from her velvet bed; she glistened at me.  I turned her over in my hand and read the word “HOPE,” engraved on her back.  Without blinking, without thinking, I instinctively knew I needed to give this angel to one of the most caring, loving, intelligent women I have ever had the privilege of knowing, my friend, Tina. 

Tina and I worked together at the time, but she lived over 300 miles away.  We were employed by the same company, but she worked out of the Massachusetts office.  We spoke daily, and we saw each other about 3 or 4 times a year.  She was always helpful, supportive, loving and extremely wise; she had become a very close friend and confidante.   Unfortunately, she had also been diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer about 9 or 10 months before this stormy morning.  I had not seen her since her diagnosis and initial treatment, but she had finally reached the stage where she felt strong enough to travel to our home office.  I was going to see her the following week and I was extremely excited about that fact.

I didn’t say anything about the angel to Tina, although we spoke often.  She was coming to our office the following Monday.  I was excited about seeing her and was truly counting the minutes until she arrived.  The first morning of her visit, I had an early meeting and she had one scheduled immediately after that.  We planned to meet in her office at 11 AM.  I just wanted to hug her close and see her warm, welcoming smile, which I had missed for so long. 

The Angel, in the beat-up velvet box, was in my desk drawer.  At 11, I dialed Tina’s office to see if she was back from her meeting.  She picked up the phone and told me another co-worker was in her office, but I should come right over.  It was then I told her I had something I wanted to give her.  I told her I was a bit embarrassed because I had found it not purchased it, I had no idea where it came from, the box was a mess, and yet, I knew it needed to be with her.  She laughed her full of life, hearty laugh and told me I should stop talking and just come by already!!

When I arrived at her office, her door was closed.  I knocked gently.  Another co-worker, Lainie, opened the door.  Tina was behind the desk with her hand on the telephone.  Lainie and Tina had apparently been in the middle of a deep conversation by the look on their faces.  But, Tina put down the telephone and we shared a warm, good hug.  It was wonderful.

I apologized for interrupting.  With slight hesitation but my heart full love, I held out my hand and opened my fist to reveal the velvet box.  Tina looked at Lainie and an expression I will never forget washed over her face.  With care, Tina removed the box from my hand, opened it, and her eyes began to fill with tears.  Even more gently than she had taken the box from my hand, she took the angel out of the box and flipped it over.  When she read the word, “HOPE”, she gasped.

Lainie’s eyes also welled with tears.  I truly had no idea what was happening.  What had I just walked into?

Apparently, when Tina was first diagnosed, in Massachusetts, 8 months earlier, her son’s soccer team’s Moms had sent her a Get-Well package.  It was a package they send whenever anyone in the group is going through hard times of any sort.  The package contained inspiring books, good luck charms, some treats, and an angel, an angel with the word “HOPE” on the back.  Tina found particular comfort with this angel and brought it along for her chemotherapy treatments.  She would hold it close as the hopefully curing poisons entered her system.  She said it made her feel a little more at ease, a little less stressed.  She took it with her for each and every session.  When her treatments finally ended, she thought she put the angel back in the box and back in the package.  However, when she was called a few weeks later and told that another Mom had just received a breast cancer diagnosis, she was asked to assemble the package and send it along at her convenience.  She had everything, but the angel was missing.

Tina looked everywhere.  She scoured her house, her purse and her car for this angel.  She called the oncology unit and asked if anyone found it there.  It was as if it simply vanished off the face of the earth.  The Hope Angel was nowhere to be found.  She then decided she needed to purchase a new angel in order to complete the package for the other mom.  She knew how much the angel helped her and she wanted this other Mom to find that same comfort.  She called every Catholic store close to her home.  When she came up empty, she searched further distances.  Tina then explored the Internet; she could not find a similar angel.  She finally gave in and purchased a new angel to include in the basket until she could find the “right” one.  It bothered Tina that the angel did not say "HOPE" and she would not give up her search. 

Apparently, when I knocked on Tina’s office door, she was just telling Lainie the angel story and they were calling Catholic stores in OUR area to see if a similar angel to the missing one could be found.  When I opened my hand and she initially saw the box, she was, truly, in shock.

Tina and I always had a special connection, but this was truly our miracle.  I loved Tina dearly and I think of her more times than I can say.  Although Tina passed away after battling her cancer for many years, she held onto her joy for life, her enjoyment and love for her children, her new granddaughter, her husband and her friends until her last breath.  I will never forget Tina, or the miracle of our “HOPE” Angel.  To this day I have no idea how that angel came to be in my night table drawer and I don’t know why my instantaneous thought was that it needed to be in Tina’s hands.  But, life works its miracles in amazing ways and sometimes we don’t need to understand it, we just need to appreciate the miracles all around us.

A Second Cup of Coffee

The rain is relentless! 

A loud, booming cascade of thunder woke me at 4:04 AM this morning.  I know the exact time because I looked immediately at the clock on my night table!  My husband was sleeping soundly and I hoped the storm would not wake him, as I knew he would worry about the basement and the pool and probably not fall back to sleep.  I listened to thunder crack after thunder crack for quite a few minutes and heard the rain pelting against our bedroom window.  Finally, I must have dozed off – (which was apparent when the alarm blaring loudly was the next sound I heard).

We turned on the weather, as we always do in the morning, and were surprised to see late openings and school closings!  There was a mudslide that closed a major highway and apparently any road near a river, stream, creek, or even pond was impassable! Our pool is almost at the point of spilling over.  At times now, when the wind catches it just right, it looks like a wave pool at a water park!  It’s not supposed to look that way.  Luckily, at this moment, we still have power and our basement is dry.  Keep working sump pump!!

My husband dressed quickly and left early for work.   He wanted to get there before the roads became completely flooded.  He said he would call when he got there.

Needless to say, my phone rang almost immediately after he left.  Roads were flooded and closed all over the place.  He wanted to let me know it would be awhile until he arrived at his office.  Not five minutes later, he called again, more road closures.  An emergency vehicle towing a rubber raft passed him…. wisely, he took that as a sign to return home.

He tried to get home the way he had just traveled, but the roads had become flooded in that short time span.  The GPS was home, so I navigated him via who-knows-where to circumvent the flooded roads.  Two hours later, yes, two hours later, he pulled into the driveway.  He was not a happy camper.

I called my boss, who happens to be a very dear friend.  She told me to stay home, that she would try to make it into the store, which, although close, involves driving all the roads my husband had just traveled.  We live in the same neighborhood and I told her to be safe and let me know when she arrived.  I did offer to ride with her.  She told me that wasn’t necessary, but I still felt guilty.  She was, as always, thoughtful and called me about an hour and a half later.  She was home, too, as there was no possible way to reach the store from our neighborhood.

That call alleviated any guilt I had about not trying to go in.  Now, I have a free day!  My husband and daughter are here, my Mom is here, my son sent a text that he is okay.  All of this led me to a great, unexpected surprise for a Thursday, a second cup of coffee! 

I hope everyone is safe out there.  For those of us who do not have to fight Mother Nature on the streets today, it’s a lucky thing.  Nature is truly surprising and formidable.  It is sometimes breathtakingly beautiful, and other times it is downright life threatening.  I am thankful for all the emergency personnel working so hard today for all of us, keeping us as safe as possible and warning us of more trouble ahead.  For all of those out there who fight paying these hard-working government workers their fair compensation…I hope these last few weeks taught a huge lesson.  I hope it serves to prove that there is a definite, vital role they play.  I hope they are given the kudos they deserve.

Now, back to my coffee…

A funny thing happened....

The alarm rang early.  It was a busy morning and a fun day was planned.  I heard my daughter’s alarm ring shortly after mine, and knew she was as excited about our plans for the day as I was.  With my dog at my feet, I went downstairs to be sure my Mom was awake. Today, the three of us were heading to my niece’s house to take care of her beautiful daughter while she returned to her first day back at school.  This was an important day for my niece as it was her first day with her new students for this school year.

The rain was beating against the windshield of my daughter’s car as she navigated the streets for our 35-minute drive.  Naturally, there was roadwork, so after a detour and a few flagmen, we arrived at our destination.  My brother was there for the early shift since he lives 10 minutes away and he had put my great-niece, his granddaughter, down for her morning nap.  He had just brewed a delicious pot of coffee that we enjoyed together while we chatted about his upcoming wedding (this weekend!).

We watched on the monitor, as my great-niece started really moving around.  She is so good-natured!  She didn’t cry, but gradually sat up and started “da da da’ing”.  We listened and smiled.  Really, is there anything better than hearing a 1 year old quietly talking to her familiar friends that reside with her in her room?

After a few minutes, my daughter and my brother couldn’t wait anymore, it was time for hugs.  They went up to her room and we watched them on the monitor as they gathered the baby up in their arms.  She was all smiles; (as were the two of them)!

Delicious is a perfect word for this baby.  Every smile, every expression, every step, you just want to hug her in your arms and eat her up.  But, instead of constantly kissing her, we walked with her as she toddled about, pushing one toy, stepping over another.  She would point to something she wanted, make a face and wave her arms if we chose the wrong thing.  We warmed her lunch with care.  She welcomed each bite, until she was full.  Then, she let us know she was full and didn’t want anymore.  She would point to her “sippy” cup and we knew she wanted her milk.  When she wanted out of the high chair, she squirmed a bit and when she wanted to hear another verse of the “Inky, Dinky Spider” she moved her hands as if to say, repeat please!  It’s amazing how a little person who doesn’t speak the language, expresses her opinions, her feelings and her thoughts and it is equally amazing how easy it is to pick up on her brilliant cues!

As adults, are we that different?  Do we take learning to quiet our wishes and hide our thoughts so seriously that we force the anxiety we then try to calm?  Isn’t it amazing how transparent we start out?  Now, of course, there were things my great-niece wanted that she couldn’t have, my daughter’s blackberry for one.  But, with little effort, since we knew what she wanted, we could divert her attention and get her excited about something else.  Her joy never left. 

Now, I realize it’s not possible to have people circling you all day responding to your every wish and desire, but, perhaps if they were informed of what the desires were they could either help fulfill them or lead us to something similar and maybe even better! Are we so used to quieting our wishes that we no longer even know what we want?  By hiding what would make us happy all the time, are we grown-up or are we just burying our desires until they turn into an ulcer, or worse?

Perhaps I learned more today from my one year old great niece than she learned from me.  After all, all I taught her were the hand movements to the Inky Dinky Spider, she taught me that perhaps the best way for me to realize my dream is to first know what it is and then express it others.

Rib Fest 2011

The idea for Rib Fest was born on a beautiful early evening in June, on the Vision of the Seas cruise ship sailing by France.  As we were enjoying drinks in the nautically decorated Schooner Bar, my husband took note that this cruise, possibly because of its European ports, did not include ribs!  He loves ribs.  Our dear friends suggested that when we arrived back home, we should get together for a rib dinner, they are, apparently, proficient rib chefs!  The deal was struck.

We decided to celebrate Rib Fest 2011 on Labor Day weekend.  It just seemed right.  What better way to celebrate the hard work of the labor force than to sit down together with friends and family, a deep pile of napkins, and dig into a stack of ribs?

The date was set.  September 3^rd, 2011.  Preparations were going on for days prior. Shopping done, marinating done, now on to the cooking! 

When our friends arrived, we almost tripped over ourselves running out to the car to greet them.  The scent of ribs wafted from their doors as they were opened.  The aromatic, mesmerizing smells filled the air surrounding the car.  It was then that we noticed the outrageous amount of food they had brought.  If this had been a movie, music would have descended from above.

Six huge racks of ribs were encased in a heavy silver foil roll, did I say 6 HUGE RACKS?!!  Beyond the ribs, a foil-baking dish the size of Wisconsin was filled with a pasta dish that would make Mario Batali proud.  Chili was beyond the pasta and included separate containers of onions and peppers.  Thinking that was all, we started carrying the dishes out of their car when low and behold there was another huge baking dish filled with homemade baked beans!!  What else?  How about wine, beer and a dish of “No Pudge” mocha brownies!  I thought my husband would faint from sheer, unadulterated joy!

With great anticipation, our mouths already watering, we brought the catered event into the house.  The oven was already pre-heated as my daughter and I had prepared a kugel just a bit earlier. 

Arranging the humongous platters in the stove was challenging, but we did it!  As the dinner warmed, we dove into a strawberry salad that I had prepared earlier, a special recipe from my cousin that is truly amazing.  Thanks wonderful cousin!!

As we finished the salad and began assembling the mass array of food on the table, everyone’s eyes were popping…later, their stomachs would be!

We ate and laughed and devoured each entrée with gusto.  Good appetites are always our strong suit and they didn’t fail us one bit!  With bellies full and buttons popping we glanced at the table still overflowing with scrumptious entrees.  There truly was enough food for an army! 

The platters were daring us to finish them, but, as the tv show states, in this instance of “Man vs Food”, food won.  And yet, dessert was yet to come and we would not cower, we are not wimps!  Coffee brewed, we cleared the table and set it again with Crème de Menthe chocolate chip cookies and a crème de menthe cake that my daughter baked, the No Pudge brownies, and individual pudding parfaits complete with whipped cream topping.  While feeling there was just no more room, not for one more bite, we chewed on……

After dinner the Rib Fest 2011 crew assembled in the living room to stretch our legs and let our stomachs descend a bit.  As usual when we’re together, we laughed and reminisced as we remembered other shared good times and we planned future experiences. 

Rib Fest 2011 was a rousing success!  With treasured friends and family together, how could it be anything else?!