Poised on the Precipice

5am and I’m soaking in the too short tub Again

Me and Kem and My thoughts

Swishing swirling like waves

I watched today in the Chesapeake bay.

Summer almost half gone.

feeling unsettled anxious afraid?

Poised on the precipice of something/somewhere.

Exciting/ unknown

Unknowable/ Unrealized

Writing taking flight.

Book deal.
Blog.
Canada sponsorship.
Offer for lecturer @ Univ.
in the fall.

Everything you hoped for

and more baby girl

So why don’t I sleep?

Why

Am I and

my Twitter

insomniac comrads

doing yoga sleep moves

at 3am.

Where is the great love

I wished for

Chanted for

Prayed to Allah/God for.

Friends mostly male

Listen distractedly

They don’t know what

it means to be Black,

Female, 60+, in these Times

Even the select few

the Circle

I have let into

My Secret World

Don’t really comprehend Me

Girlfriends I don’t have many

Concerned with menopause

Failing health weight gain

Why are all the men in prison or way down Low

Gurl you are blessed what you complaining for?

I reply yes I know

and pour

another glass of Wine

Is this what 60 plus is really for.

Memories/regrets/ half lives lived.

Wanna be happy

Wanna Really smile.

We women wear the mask that

Hides and smiles.

Tired of frowning fretting brooding raging

Eating my feelings at 3am

Good black still cracks and gets fat.

You’re so funny

Can make everyone laugh

The tears of a clown are just that

So talented

so thin

look at that Smile

…Got good genes

even the physician scribes.

Ask Robin Williams,Anthony Bourdain, Phyllis Hyman, Donnie Hathaway Gerald Levert

Lt. Steven Nettles…thank you for your service/Your UnwaveringFriendship

All gone before their time

How does it feel to have a graveyard

For a friend?

Bath water so warm

murmurs hush.

Be still.

Peace
Be still.

The one you seek has yet to be born.

Guess I’ll see you next lifetime

…may Be a Butterfly.

(Love and Light!)

Hacking Recipes

Reader, This is part 2 of my abbreviated Foodie post from last week in which I shared some thoughts/pics on Foodism ( not a word).

Lest you think I am only a Restaurant-goer, here are some pics and back stories representing my own home cooking abilities ( all the single men gasp and drop their remotes…dang a woman who can rattle those pots and pans…where is she?)

A few years ago, I learned how to batch cook . In fact, I had been doing this for years, but didn’t know there was a term for it. Simply put, it is the idea of preparing several meals at one time, usually done on the weekend to eliminate that running-in-from-work-at-the-last-minute-trying-to-prepare-a-meal syndrome.

I have learned that in some Foodie circles, it has been elevated to a social event complete with wine pairings where folks gather at individual homes and batch cook and socialize at the same time…kinda like an old school red/blue light in the basement party..but not really).

This ratatouille is a recent product of a batch cooking tequila fueled session. Back story: I was alone. I had insomnia. Food Network episodes ended at 3:00am. I had a crisper full of one week old summer veggies. Voila!

This cinnamon peach bread pudding is actually part of a video I taped for an audition tape to the Food Channel. The recipe was courtesy of one of the Food Network guys and I was attempting to demonstrate how to make this yummy dessert by substituting some of the called for ingredients for those I actually had on hand. What the hell is a cinnamon chip? Who has peach preserves..I thought they only did that with strawberries? 6 eggs..guess they never heard about garbanzo bean juice. Remember cholesterol clogs and kills. Half and half? Okay, here’s some coconut milk… This is, after all, the mark of a good cook…

 

And I must say, it was scrumptious…my taster friends practically licked the pan.

That same batch cooking session ( started as a cleaning the refrigerator moment) yielded a huge pot of creamy black bean soup, fiery jerk chicken wings, a heavenly Greek moussaka, and a baked crab/zucchini dish I would give my first borne for… just kidding T, maybe the second born.

Writing about food, always makes me hungry…guess its a Foodie side effect…so I need to put this tablet down and go rummage through the fridge before I become h-a-n-g-r-y…another Foodie term. Hey, maybe there’s a market for a Foodie dictionary…

I digress…often

Bowls of food have become the latest food phenomenon. I think it has its origins in Asian fare…but all the ethnic food folks are starting to make their version of this space saving, visually appealing, can-be-eaten -with -one -hand -while driving/texting meal.

Even fast food giants have gotten into the act with a glop of potatoes, topped by a glop of corn, topped by those poor genetically manipulated bird parts…all smothered in heart stopping gravy…hmm yum.

Here is a healthier , life giving version. This mound of fresh veggies and soba noodles became a steaming bowl of stir fry sans protein and seasoned with a mixture of Hoisin, ginger, garlic and red chili oil.

Bon appetit!

 

 

EATING OUR FEELINGS


Like many others, I am a Foodie.

Not sure what the official Webster or Wikipedia definition is, but I define it as someone who simply enjoys eating. This is NOT food addiction leading to obesity and a starring role on Reality TV kind of thing.

Although, I confess, I sometimes watch those shows when I find myself thinking about Chunky Monkey in the pre dawn hours of an insomnia riddled night. I also sometimes channel surf to Hoarders and Catfish when I feel my depression turning to obsession.
Watching those shows is more of a preventative measure on how to avoid a pleasurable experience becoming an addictive one. (Note: This is probably where the mind doctors pick up their pads, raise their eyebrows and start scribbling furiously).
Most Foodies are not threatened with obesity simply because Nature has provided us with a high metabolism, a treadmill or good genes that keep us from tipping the scales. Girl, I am tired of you skinny b*****s talking about how you can eat Anything and not gain weight.
What the world doesn’t know is that we are… eating our feelings.
My journey as a Foodie began back in the lazy hazy days of Black hippiedom when eating natural was all the rage. Back to Earth was our slogan and Vegan/Vegetarian restaurants, Juice Bars, and Farmers’ Markets abounded in the city of Lost Angels. These were not the trendy places seen on Food Network and Travel Channel today, but often little patchouli scented neighborhood joints with a few Goodwill cast off tables and a well worn counter. And like Cheers, everyone really did know your name.
Fast forward to Real world adulthood-jobs, taxes, Xanax. Being a Foodie became a form of entertainment where an otherwise boring, mundane evening could be transformed by a trip to the local market or, if funds allowed, sampling the offerings at one of the ever increasing ethnic restaurants sprouting up across the City.
For a Southern born grits and gravy girl eating out was sheer heaven. And according to many of my fellow Foodie friends can be something akin to orgasm.( Or at least will cause you to break out in the foot happy dance where your feet literally start tapping the floor).
Girl please food aint never been as good as sex.
Today, Boomerism and Foodie are synonymous for many Golden Girls/Guys. Eating out, always a big part of any family gathering, now takes on an elevated meaning for ladies/lads of leisure. It has become the alternative to a date and often takes the form of meet ups, food/wine/beer tasting, food truck rodeos, etc .

And like the proverbial kid in a candy store, there are so many eateries to choose from…a plethora of tempting sights, smells and textures all designed to satisfy any craving/fantasy/heartbreak/disappointment/joy life sends your way.
Eat, drink, and be Merry!

FOR AULD LANG SYNE

 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And never brought to mind

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And auld lang syne

I guess poet Robert Burns was in a sentimental mood when he penned this ditty in 1788.  Bet he had no idea it would become the anthem heard round the world on the day the ball drops.  This song about preserving old friendships and looking back over the events of the year is certainly apropos.

Writers and Bloggers are busy doing their Year in Review. The media and talking heads will all be serenading us daily with their particular take on the Year That Was.

For many, 2016 was a tough year, full of national tragedies, political upheaval, personal trials, and of course, unexpected deaths. The image of PBS Journalist Gwen Ifill’s smiling but now silent image on the 6 o’clock news still unnerves me.

I like to think the metaphor for my life is….Like a song and as I reflect back on this year …a song is playing somewhere in the background.  Kinda like…Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life.

Like most recent New Year’s, I found myself soundly asleep in 2016 when the ball dropped.  Only to be awakened shortly afterwards by a phone call from the One Who Remains Nameless or more recently daughter J or one of the grandsons who revels in the fact that he is now old enough to stay awake until midnight.

Yes, Virginia, there were the years of dressing up in my finest glad rags and hitting the town for the passage of the Old into the New…but like most things life/time  intervened and the need to go cavorting out in the streets with all kinds of drunk, high strangers has ceased to appeal to me.

I do know quite a few people who find themselves on their knees in church at midnight, but I often wonder about the safety of those folk when they leave the church en route to home and come face to face with an errant drunk driver coming back from da club.  Much like those unfortunate souls in Charlestown who met their untimely and tragic end while trying to save a soul…in church.

Despite my Rip Van Winkle entrance to 2016, the year proved to be one of challenges for family, close friends and even Moi!

It began with my 90+ father’s unexpected trip to the ER and an ensuing 12 hour wait and see game played by the hospital staff only to be unceremoniously tossed out of said hospital because my father’s PCP thought “he would be better off at home”. Despite documented lab and test results to the contrary showing a need, in the words of the treating Resident, for if nothing else a few days of observation.

The months that followed became somewhat tortuous for my father who up until that time was spry, sharp of mind, and except for occasional bouts of arthritis in his knees a poster child for AARP.  I mean the man mastered the computer many years ago and regularly emails, searches the internet, and googles with the best of them. His collection of scrapbooks documenting important stages of his life is a hobby with a purpose that keeps his mind sharp and old age at bay.

Watching his cognitive skills decline as a result of an unfortunate happenstance was difficult, but more difficult was the way the medical profession responded to his condition.  I don’t want to belabor this issue but several tersely written letters from me to the appropriate folk at higher levels of Medical Authority did not go unnoticed and I think helped to speed up the diagnostic and treatment phase of his condition.

The pen IS mightier than the sword.

Right on the heels of my father’s illness, my body began to flirt with what became a 4 month descent into uncertainty and downright fear as I struggled with an unnamed illness that resisted diagnosis.  Fortunately, in the capable hands of my PCP, Dr. E, I was finally diagnosed by Summer’s end and began the ascent to recovery.

During those dark months of my illness, I watched as my closest friend struggled with her fight against the big C.  She is and remains the definition of a Trooper, and became my hero as I watched her undergo devastating chemo treatments, return to work the next 2 days infusion intact, without missing a beat.  All the while maintaining her part time Vendor business and being the Matriarch of her large and needy clan. Fran is the definition of a Shero and watching her fight became my Will to overcome the demons that had invaded my body.

Troubles don’t last always….

2016 had its bright moments as well.  Much of the goings on at the White House with the first AA President and his Lady Michelle were designed to take our minds off the dreary, nasty battles between the candidates fighting for the title to become King.  Watching First Lady Michelle and the President host galas, state dinners, and musical performances at the White House was a great distraction and mood lifter for many of us.  Even if Congress thwarted the President’s attempts to bring about Real Change…the first couple showed America…when Others go Low…they go High… AND  dang it..they know how to Par tay.

And now we are about to be Trumped…I’m not sure exactly sure what that means, not being a card player, but it has some ominous undertones.

However, Readers, I remain hopeful that the same spirit that brought us Hamilton, Memes, Drones, Bacon flavored ice cream, Kengen Water, Quinoa, Turmeric, Bathroom signs proclaiming P…People Room and Garth Brooks concerts where all tickets start out at $67 only to be resold  online for up to $2,000…is a Country/People that can Survive Anything!

Happy New Year !