I was sorting through a few photos I’ve taken over the last couple months, and our pets keep coming up as a subject of my photos. Our animals are a large part of our lives, but I also take their photo because I find them funny or picturesque in a particular moment, or I’m trying to learn something with the settings on my camera and they are the most willing subject given my options.
I’ve been thinking about this post for 30 days and there was no way to write this in advance. On November 1st I decided to write a blog a day. Tonight marks the 30th post for the month of November. And I’m proud that I completed the goal. It’s been a struggle, I couldn’t’ have done it without the help of my husband in the evenings. November is a very busy month in general for our family and especially since the end of the month leads up to two of the busiest days in my annual calendar, not counting Thanksgiving.
In order to accomplish a blog a day, I had to really think and plan ahead. There were days when I would sit down at 8 or 9 p.m. wondering what I was going to write about that day. Some days the blog seemed to write itself, especially when I could recognize the gift of that day.
My favorite post was when my son got my camera and secretly took photos (A Photographer in the Making). That also happened to be one of the most viewed posts of the month.
The hardest post to write was about the Penn State child abuse scandal. (Little Lost Boys)
My favorite photo project and title of the month was When Frost Happens. This was one of those that wrote itself.
Writing daily has made me buckle down and be disciplined. The rigor of daily reflection brings perspective. This exercise has literally made me stop and “smell the roses.” Blogging consistently makes me re-frame everyday moments. It also makes me consider things more thoroughly and thoughtfully.
For me, writing is probably my single best skill. I majored in communications with an emphasis on journalism. I’ve been in PR and marketing communications jobs for the whole of my professional career. I’ve been in jobs before where my main function was to write whatever needed to be captured. Since my professional career began technology has gone from typing into a word processing typewriter to micro-blogging on Twitter with my mobile phone. Who could have imagined that?
Writing is a skill; it’s a job; and it’s a gift. Anyone can learn to write well but not everyone is a gifted writer.
Writing is cathartic for me. I’ve kept some form of a journal since I was 12 years old. I’ve been working out my emotional tribulations by writing about it almost since I was able form words into sentences. No matter if writing is a necessary skill in today’s information age or if you are a gifted writer, practice makes you better.
The awesomeness of blogging means that you get “published” every day that you decide to write. With the tools available you become a content generator. The downside is that there is a lot more content out there to sort through. But the main thing is to continue to do it regularly. Consistently producing new content is like major league at-bats. The more you’re up at the plate the more opportunities you have to hit a home run.
Happy blogging, Y’all.
Today has been an extraordinarily busy day … so tonight when I came home from a 12-hour work day I put my pajamas on. I figured why bother changing out of my work clothes only to change again later. Part of my nighttime attire includes a pair of slippers because we have tile or stained concrete in the majority of our house. Hard floors = cold floors in winter.
Every year someone in my family gives me slippers, which I love because I always need a new pair by the time Christmas rolls around. My feet are always cold. Seriously, the only thing colder than my feet is me arse. (But that’s another story.)
The Christmas before my son was born my mother-in-law gave me a pink, furry bath robe and matching slippers. The set was like a little piece of cloud wrapped around my very pregnant middle. And of course the slippers were awesome since my feet hurt and were incredibly swollen most of the time. I packed this robe and slippers in my bag to take with me to the hospital when our son was born. What typically is a two-day process ended up being a five-day stay.
While my son was in the NICU, I shuffled down the hospital corridors in my robe and slippers. I looked like a grizzly bear, all grouchy and postpartum puffy. My house slippers were my only footwear, and it was hard to walk, for obvious reasons. And since my hormones were so completely out of whack I could be fearsome to deal with, like the most ferocious of felines.
I still have the slippers and wear them sometimes. But before I left the hospital, my husband dubbed them the pink slippers of fury because of the tangles I found myself in while wearing them.
So now it’s a family joke and all I have to do to “mean business” is to point to my feet in the pink slippers and our little son will say “no momma, not the pink slippers of fury.”
The first day back after a long holiday is hectic to say the least. The organization I work for produces a large community event the first Thursday after Thanksgiving. A service organization I belong to has its biggest fund raiser on the first Saturday in December. These two events always fall within the same week and it’s always a three-ring circus at our house and offices. The events themselves require lots of coordination among various parties to make it all happen. We rely on volunteers to do almost everything. And we are thankful to have their help.
There are many community folks who partake of these events without much thought about the planning and initiative it takes to throw a party on this scale. I’ve been planning events for the whole of my professional career. I have an aptitude for it and a great deal of experience actually doing it. The thing about events is that they always happen. Some how they just happen. And you can plan and plan and plan, but there are always things that come up that you can’t anticipate. By experience I know that I have to “plan” to deal with the hitches, as they happen. It’s a lot of work and really stressful, so let’s just say I’ll be so glad when Sunday comes.
Some days I’m envious of my cat…
We’re visiting Nanny and Pawpaw this weekend. Pawpaw wanted a new computer so we actually ventured to one of the bigbox stores on Black Friday to find an electronics deal. Remarkably the stores weren’t bad at all – I guess when you go at 6 p.m. all the early birds have gone home to roost.
On our adventure we stopped off at a Mongolian-style grill for dinner. Jdubs has been balking at eating his dinner these days but tonight we had leverage. There was a guy at the restaurant making balloon critters. We threatened Jdubs that if he didn’t eat his dinner then no balloon.
And this guy was good. He’s a college student at UT-Dallas. Pretty clever part-time job for a college student. Nanny asked if he had to go to a special school to learn how to make balloon animals. He said that he went to the school of You Tube to learn. (A comedian too).
He made Jdubs a goldfish on a fishing pole.
He told us he was available for birthdays and parties, but occasionally he got invited to bachelorette parties, which could get a little awkward… I guess the single girls wanted something other than a fish on a line 😉
Jdubs did good, ate his broccoli and noodle dinner. Thanks Blue Collar Balloon Guy.
I met Tim and Janice Kerlee this spring. They were the guest speakers at our annual Aggie Muster. Their presentation is remarkable…they explain the Bonfire Memorial in great detail with pictures and describe the meaning of the each of the symbols throughout the entire structure, which are quite numerous.
Losing Bonfire happened just a few weeks before I graduated, and hardly a week goes by without me thinking about that day in some way. It helps that my office is adorned predominantly in Aggie stuff, including a picture of the last Aggie Bonfire in 1998. In my sitting area I have a copy of the Texas Monthly issue about Aggie Bonfire. Nonetheless, it’s still something I keep fresh in my memory because from time to time something will trigger a memory of that day. I don’t remember eating or where I parked or any of the normal details of my day-to-day life. Just the invisible mourning shared between my fellow Ags and the confusion that weighed heavily in all of our hearts. We all waited patiently and rather quietly outside the perimeter fence watching rescue workers try to save my fellow Ags. RC Slocum’s football team assembled and were among the folks who were toting logs off the stack.
It was the first and last time I’d been a part of a national news item, much less one that was so near and dear to my heart. I don’t know that I even realized if was even a single camera at the Polo Fields when we were out there. Obviously, there were. There were helicopters in the sky and news vans everywhere, but I didn’t even think to notice them. I didn’t have a mobile phone back then so I was out of touch for most of the day. My mother was miserable, I’m sure, but she worries a lot.
Part of the Kerlees’ presentation was the picture that the Dallas Morning News ran on their front page of Tim’s decimated body. His hips were crushed, his legs were detached from his body and his arm was broken. He was in shock and wasn’t in pain, although very uncomfortable from having his body broken the way it was. People in the rescue crews said that he told them to go help the others before they helped him. His parents got to see him before he died in the hospital.
Tim Kerlee, Jr was Janice and Tim Sr’s only child, and they lost him twelve years ago today. It makes me think about my son quite a bit when I remember her talking about Tim Jr, and I wonder how I would respond if my only child died doing something he was so passionate about. I wonder how many Aggies still think about that picture of Tim Jr in the newspaper and get angry that the DMN ran it in the first place. I wonder if the next generation of Aggies or the leadership in place on campus can ever get close to comprehending the dedication and spirit that Aggies such as the twelve who died that early morning had, as well as the others who were there and injured or had to help dig their brothers and sisters out of fallen stack. We hear about Tim so much because he was the last one to fall, but there are 11 other Aggies that rarely get mentioned.
I can’t do anything other than wonder, but I still do and I do it regularly. I hope you do as well.
Here X 12. Fightin’ Texas Aggie Bonfire.
We spent Saturday night in Fort Worth this weekend. We had a blast with good friends, sampling wine, eating delicious food. But on our way to and from the big city we got to see a lot of beautiful fall colors.
I lived in Michigan for 6 fall seasons, with some of the most beautiful fall colors you can see anywhere. But it’s got nothing on Young County.
This old barn looks like it’s winking at you. Not a lot of fall color around it but the picture was taken in the fall. And it’s one of my favorites so I thought I’d add it in here.
Now all we need is a strong, gusty wind to blow all the leaves off the trees.
Of course the day couldn’t be complete without a beautiful sunset over the “fairy castle.” Thanking the trusty iPhone photography capabilities.
Aquarium, part deaux.
The aquarium in its glory days:
Over the weekend my husband started the process of taking down our 120 gallon saltwater aquarium. Three days later, and a whole lot of elbow grease, the tank and contents have been broken down and moved into the garage. The garage smells like Galveston, Texas. Amazing how smelly saltwater can get when it’s not moving.
It’s also quiet in the house – really quiet. There is no more pitter-pat of running water. No more whirl and hum of filters and pumps. No more fizzy bubble sounds.
Saltwater is seriously corrosive. It peeled the paint off the baseboard and discolored the the wall. We’ll be going to get a gallon of primer and matching paint so we can touch up [repaint] the wall. No wonder classic car enthusiasts don’t want cars from the coast or northern states where they use salt on the roads.
But now we have this huge, blank space in our main living room – a little more than 8 ft. of wall space. Everything is off balance. Before we had this nice balance – the fireplace on one end and aquarium on the opposite end.
Before/After
I have a some ideas …
2. Kid space, with toys and games and stuff (all organized)
3. Art! (I’m not an art-y person but can appreciate a nice original, professional or amateur.)
4. A collage photo gallery — I take lots of photos of flowers. Maybe a good place for a collection of framed originals.
5. A wine rack (with wine, of course)
Nanny … all I want for Christmas is a gift card to IKEA!
I remember the first time I had French Onion Soup. Actually, I don’t, but if you allow me to totally make up a story, it goes like this: I was hitchhiking across provincial France one summer when I was in college. After stopping in a small town for some bread and cheese, I noticed a wafting smell emanating from a cottage close to the marketplace area of the town. It was heavenly. It smelled like perfume…the perfect blend of peasantry and precision in food that carried me through the air like a Bugs Bunny cartoon where he gets the perfumed inner thigh smell of a carrot in his nostrils, which renders him helpless and catatonic as he slowly drifts thru the air towards the source of the smell.
I approached the cottage, knocked on the door, and was greeted by the most beautiful French woman you could imagine. She was fetching in the most humble ways…naturally beautiful, however she was reticent in seeing a stranger at her door who was sniffing the air like a bloodhound. In my broken French asked, “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
Looking perplexed and glancing down at her feet, she said, “Ils sont mes chaussures.”
Actually, I think the first time I had French Onion Soup was at a Jason’s Deli or a La Madeleine or something like that. Either way, it left an impression on me.
Since I can’t recreate pastoral France nor is there a deli anywhere around me, I have to create my own FOS if I want some. Fortunately for me, my FOS is world’s beyond what you can normally find in a chain restaurant. Every young onion dreams of someday being the main ingredient in this powerhouse soup. So, without further adieu…he we goes.
Mise en place:
-two large yellow onion
-one large red onion
-one large white onion
-3/4c of cabernet sauvignon
-1/4c of port
-6 strips of bacon
-4-5 cloves of garlic
-carton of beef broth
-carton of beef stock
-provolone cheese
-a nice french loaf
Boil some water in a large pot and add a bit of salt to soften the water.
Add the onions:
Blanche them for 2-3 minutes.
Then dump into an ice bath to stop the cooking.
This will make the skins easier to remove. You want to remove the outside layers that are papery. They’ll be quite toothsome in the soup, and you don’t want that.
While they are cooling off, get your big stock pot out and render 6 strips of good bacon. Don’t cook on high…you need to be able to crisp the bacon up but not burn.
Remove the skins of the cooled onions.
Half the onions, then julienne into strips. You want nice bite-sized strips. If you cut them too thin, they’ll disappear in the cooking. Make them too big, and they aren’t very fun to eat.
Do this will all the onions.
The red onions make a beautiful addition to the soup. They’ll leach that red color out into the soup.
Once the bacon is crispy and the fat is all cooked out, remove the bacon. Save it for a BLT or something. Don’t throw away good bacon.
Add all of the onion to the bacon fat.
Stir them so they are good and coated with the fat. Add some salt to make them start to cook down to translucent.
Five cloves of garlic, smashed and diced. I like to leave the garlic in small chunks so it has some texture to it in the soup.
Curl your fingers in and let the blade of the knife hit your knuckles. That way, you don’t get cut.
Add the garlic. More salt if you need.
Fresh ground pepper.
While the onions and garlic are cooking, measure out ¾c of red wine. I like using a tasty table wine that is good enough to drink along with the meal. The combo of the wine plus the soup is a great complement.
Plus 1/4c of your favorite port. I had an open bottle of vintage in my bar and needed to use it.
After a few minutes, the onion will start to become translucent so that you can see thru the edges.
Gorgeous.
Add the wines to the onions. The wine will immediately lose its deep ruby color and turn kinda brown. We need it to mellow a bit before we add the stock/broth.
And a bit more salt. Taste this along the way. The salt helps drive the moisture out of the onion and make them soft.
After a bit, the wine will mix with the moisture rendered from the onion and turn all of the onion a nice pink color.
Now, since we are going to be serving red wine with this meal, I like to mix in beef stock and beef broth. Beef stock will have fat where the broth should be just about fat free. When you drink a red wine with big tannins, serve it with a fatty dish. The fat will coat the mouth and calm the tannins so that you can experience the fruit w/o drawing your mouth up.
Stock. In.
Broth. In.
Bring it up to a simmer, then cover and reduce the heat to a low simmer.
That needs to simmer on low for an hour and a half. At this point, salt and pepper to taste, but be careful. Over the next hour, the flavor is going to change drastically as all the flavors meld together. Now, notice that all we’ve added so far is salt and pepper for flavor. No herbs, no spices. That’s by design. The beef stock should be prepared with a bouquet garni for flavor. The natural flavor of the wine, the bacon, and the onion/garlic is going to be complex enough for us.
Taste it along the way. You’ll use more salt than you’d think, but be careful not to oversalt it. It’s best to get it to the point where you think it still needs just a bit more, then after the rest you’ll find that it’s perfect.
After an hour (notice the fat glistening on top):
After the hour and a half long simmer, turn off the heat and let it rest uncovered. While it’s resting, cut a french loaf into 1″ slices.
Olive oil.
Brush the olive oil onto both sides of each slice of bread, then salt and pepper for each side.
Into a 425deg oven until nice and brown.
The crispy bread is integral to a FOS.
When the soup is finished, ladle portions into a high-sided bowl or a crock.
Put a crouton right in the middle of the bowl just on top of the soup. Don’t push it down…just float it right on top.
Take a slice or two of provolone cheese and lay it over the crouton.
Now, some people like to turn their broiler on, slide the crock into the oven, and melt the cheese under the searing heat of the broiler. That’s a great way to do it. However, I like to use my kitchen torch to do it. I can be a bit more precise and get the cheese cooked to the perfect sear up close.
Seared:
Served with a bit of that tasty wine, and you’ve got yourself a delicious meal.
Here it is in its full glory. Bust thru the crouton that’s been soaking up that soup and spoon up the cheese with those onions.
And there you have it. French Onion Soup that will change your life.
One and a half days ago the weather really changed when a powerful cold front move through. The temps dropped considerably in an 18 hour span. It went from being summer to fall in a few hours. There was nothing gradual about it. But then again this year has been anything but typical … 10 degrees in February then 100 degrees in April. Really!? Seriously!?
Yesterday… (OK, 1.5 days ago)
Today …
The first hard, killing frost happened close to dawn today – it was 25 degrees at 8:15 this morning. The frost twinkled brightly all over creation this morning.
At the stop sign near my kid’s school …
Sun on the left, frost on the right. Awesome display of the warmth of the sun.
I attempted to cover my garden and a nice stand of Siam basil in my front flower bed. I had beautiful zinnias in orange and pink. Zinnias are a favorite of mine because they bloom constantly and do well in the hateful August sun plus they are drought tolerant. And we had a hell of a hot, dry summer this year.
When Frost Happens, Things Die.
Yesterday …
Today ….
The frost happened, and made this a very sad flower (and a dead flower.)
Frost killed this future eggplant.
Dead basil.
Although, the frost can bring about beauty of its own.
(How great is it to have a handy iPhone when you are driving down the alley and see something pretty?)
Welcome to the weekend, y’all!
The Arcadian Experience 