Another Fine Mess

There is a tradition that lives in the kitchens among the women in my family, and it is known as "the lid drawer". This is where the tops of containers, lids of long-tossed jars and tubs, are stored for that one day when a suitable top is needed for a specific whatchamacallit and then *poof* the perfect lid.

I am the dark sheep in my family - act surprised - as I have no such drawer. Instead I have something far more useful. The contents of what WOULD be my "lid drawer" also suit lots of purposes, comes in handy for everyday uses and in an emergency? Oh heck - it's practically MADE for emergencies.

Behold - the chocolate box.

(Cue the choir of angelic voices ...)

This container of empty but oh so satisfying calories lives in the top shelf of my pantry. One would think it would be too tempting to just let it sit and live up there ... but honestly, it's fine. I know when I get onto my tiptoes and stretch all the way out that to get my fingertips to walk the bottom of the box to the edge of the shelf, and as it starts to tip over the top of my head that either (1) I'll miss and comedy will ensue or (2) good tasty things will occur. Or, at least the attempt to good tasty things. The goal is always (2), but sometimes I get the bonus of (1) as well.

In any event, the chocolate box was opened with the intent to make some magic for myself, for my work friends, for my coffee shop buds, but especially for my guy who, for reasons I can't quite put my finger on, I just think needs to be reminded that he's special and fabulous. Because he is special and fabulous.

As you know, I made these yesterday.

Oh sorry - too far away? Ok here. I made these yesterday. Lots and lots of these. In fact, I made a hundred of 'em
and then I grabbed some white chocolate from the box (not the morsels shown but other stuff that was further down), melted it down, and got to work. With no real pattern, I just let things fall where they may. The result was this

which, in my hand, looks like this.

I will point out that the boyfriend wasn't a huge fan of this look ... which was alright because I had more changes in store. Next I grabbed the bittersweet morsels, melted those down and, throwing all caution to the wind, I did this

I was concerned at first because, though the kitchen was not warm at all, the second "explosion" of chocolate was not setting up. A few minutes in a refrigerator did the trick and they look like the fine mess that I intended to makeand oh what a fine mess they are. In fact, having made enough adjustments to both pre- and post-baking the original recipe, I have no qualms in renaming these "Gracie's Fine Mess Cookies". Share them with someone special and fabulous today. I know that I intend to do so ...

New and Improved?

This is Memorial Day Weekend ... a time of reflection, of giving thanks for those who have given their very best so that the rest of us can ... uh hmmm well, do as little as possible, sometimes. Or, at least, have the OPTION of doing as little as possible.

In any event, this being Memorial Day Weekend, I took a moment and flipped the pages back over the past year and ... ahhhh yes - there it was. Yanno, last Summer, I found a recipe that was so good, I replicated it four times in one weekend. So it was that I decided this weekend, I'd revisit, reflect and - as this is America - revise.

I should state that there was nothing at all that actually *needed* tweaking from the original. It's just - well, we (as a culture) very rarely leave well enough alone. The Ford Mustang, New Original Reformulated Coke, The Dukes of Hazzard Movie ... sadly all visions of having the best of intentions with a good thing and ... well let's just say "new" doesn't ALWAYS partner with "and improved".

But ... well the original called for semi-sweet and white chocolate chips. So I did that ... plus milk and bittersweet chocolate chips, too. (Come on - if 2 kinds of chocolate is good, then 4 has GOTTA be better, right?) The original called for dried cherries - I used both Montmorency and Bings, to mix up the tartness and the size. I also added a splash of the fluid from the cherries to extend the flavor.

I tripled the recipe, finally finishing mixing the whole mess by hand and then blopping big unmeasured gobs of chunky cookie dough onto as many cookie sheets as I have. I made an even 100 cookies and - while they're not all the prettiest things ever to come outta my kitchen, they deliver plenty of flavor. (I know I know ... I hear you. "Pictures!!!" you cry out loud. Tomorrow, I promise.)

Annnnnnnd - speaking of "tomorrow", I will probably take a few dozen of the prettier cookies in the batch and ... oh, I dunno - maybe slather on some chocolate or ... something ... in an effort to improve on the improvement. This is America. It is what we do.
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(On a far more serious note, please take a moment tomorrow and remember WHY we have Memorial Day. Those that have served selflessly deserve so much more than a day but let us at least give them that.)

Reading for a Cause

Earn "good person" points! Make total strangers doing great work happy! Improve your Summertime weather!!! Wanna learn how? SURRRRRRRRE ya do.

So Summertime is nearly around the corner and ya' have a "wanna read" list that's pretty long, don't ya? I know I sure do. It may look like there's not much on my "read right now" list (via Shelfari ... to the right over there -->) but don't let my not updating that often fool you.

Annnnyway, if you find yourself wanting a reason to visit a bookstore but feel a little bit guilty for the pleasure of having new reading materials, how about if you handed a certificate to the cashier that made that bookstore donate a percentage of your purchase towards a worthy cause? Yeah? Ok - well then ... what if that worthy cause was one where you knew someone who had done that work? Right??????? Right!!!!

I can't promise that this will work for online purchases - but I DO promise that you will gain "good person" points, and that my "Hands On" friends in the Gulf will really appreciate it, and that the weather for your Summer will be a few degrees better just for you doing this.

Ok ok - I can't guarantee the "Summer weather" one - but those first two are true.

The Duckman

Meet Joel Armstrong.
BELIEVE me when I tell you he was NOT who I was gonna write about today.
But ... this story is worth hearing.

The Gift Of "Thank You"

I've written before about my history with "thank you". I believe in it - I practice it - and I appreciate it. So my calling to thank a small business for providing the service they said they would (and the service that I paid for them to accomplish) probably doesn't come as a shocker. Yeah, well it shocked the small business.

I identified who I was and what I had ordered and where I'd asked for it to be delivered. I began to express my thanks at a job well done and I could tell, even just one sentence in, that the individual on the other end of the phone wasn't prepared to be thanked. My guess is that when a call comes through as mine had - from a customer who identifies themselves and what they'd purchased, what typically would follow would be a complaint, not a compliment. Strangely, without a lot of warning, I found myself on hold.

A moment or two passed.

A new person picked up the line, identified themselves as a member of management or some-such, and asked me to repeat what I'd already said ... namely that I was satisfied with my purchase. I laughed at the request (just for a second) and then agreed that yes, from what I'd been told, everything was as I had asked for it to be and thanked them again for a job well done. I assured this person that I'd keep their contact information in mind for future use, and we ended the call.

And a strange feeling has grown inside of me since that time.

First off, I did something nice for my guy for "no real reason at all" and heck, that always feels good. Secondly, my guy was pleasantly (almost) surprised with what I'd done and brightening his day is another "feel good" for me (so yeah, I was smiling pretty good by that time). And then, by thanking folks for doing what they said they would, I "added to the happy".

Kinda makes me wanna do this sort of thing for my guy every Friday.

The scene, pre-edit?

Samir: No. Not again. I ... Why does it say 'paper jam' when there is no paper jam? I swear to God ... one of these days, I just ... kick this piece of shit out the window ...

Michael: You and me both, man. That thing is lucky I'm not armed.

Calico: Move aside, boys ... I'll take care of this.

All That We Don't Leave Behind

or "Hints, Allegations, And Things That Would Have Been SO MUCH BETTER Left Unsaid"

Sometime after high school age, I guess, one becomes aware that one cannot simply shed ones past like some far-too-restrictive snake skin. The lessons that are offered (and, ideally, LEARNED) from our pasts can become part of the formula with which we conduct ourselves in the future. Telling a child "the stove is hot" means nothing until they touch it and realize that "hot" means that "the strange silvery box-thing will burn me". Telling a teen not to drink means very little until they experience their first hangover and think (painfully and quietly think) "hmmm, actually this ISN'T cool ... and I really don't remember eating THAT."

I'm not saying these lessons don't require reinforcing from time to time. I'm saying just the opposite, actually ... and, for me anyway, it's that reinforcing that causes the biggest heartache, even today.

These ghosts from lessons past that return upon occasion serve as reminders of what was being taught ... or to keep us from making the same mistakes ... or to serve up a niiiiice big steaming plate of humility and humbleness, also known as "crow".

Yummmm, crow. Don't forget to add a little touch of self-loathing with that ... because crow tastes just oh so much better with just that extra dash of self-administered flog. Oh, and pass the lemon pith, would ya'? *munch* *munch* After all this time, I find that I almost don't mind the taste of the stuff.

So, adding to my "things I just don't understand", I guess I need to include something along these lines:
When the ghosts of lessons past come ahauntin', what exorcise puts them to rest permanently?

Because a few of my demons really need to learn recipes that DON'T include crow. And I wouldn't mind if they just didn't come visit at all, honestly.

Now *THAT* I Understand

On Friday, I posted some random things that sometime happen or that I've observed that I can't really make sense of. And a friend of mine addressed two of them.

And I understand.

The "Swapper Ed's/Half Provisions" thing? Yep - I forget that having easy access to foodie-centric awesome shop after foodie-centric awesome shop is not the "norm" for quite a few places. And I should have remembered that one, really. When my sister was living in ... well let's just call it "Hell" ... she was 4 minutes away from the ONLY store within a 70-minute drive radius. No foolin'. That "store" (and mannnn, do I use THAT term loosely!) was also the official post office, the florist, the pharmacy, the vet, and the town bulletin board. It's also where "overnight" packages were delivered three times a week (and then the post office would call you to come get your package). OH - and it closed at 4pm on Wednesdays because everyone ... EVERYONE ... knew that was Fire House Bingo night. Ya' can't just make something like that up.

And as for talking vs. texting? Well heck - that's just embarrassing. I don't make my living with a phone anymore but I'm STILL not a big fan. I just ... I guess if I were given the choice, I would rather have a two-way conversation with one person for 10 minutes than a 1-way conversation with 10 people for 30 seconds, or 164 characters, or whatever it is. But that's a preference thing. Let's be honest ... a person with a blog is no more or less narcissistic than a person who communicates in any other electronic fashion.

There's two things I now understand. Dig me, I'm learning.

Soooooo ... who wants to give me the reason why dogs turn around three (or more) times before lying down?

I Don't Understand ...

... how it can already be MAY.

... the fuss my foodie-type friends make over places that are SIMILAR to "Swapper Ed's" or "Half Provisions".

... how people can use a restroom and NOT wash their hands WITH soap.

... why anyone would announce their every single thought throughout the day via electronic means instead of calling just one friend and having a good ol' fashioned discussion.

... the reasons a dog has for turning around three (or more) times before lying down.

... the cost of airfare. (I mean, if part of economic recovery is based on tourism, I'd think that making it cheaper to fly to your destination to spend money would be part of that equation.)

... why I look up at the ceiling when I notice that my cat is staring at some mystery item that I KNOW I won't be able to see.

Pink, Blue/White, "Forever Young", and "Take My Breath Away"

"Hey - help me make the hubby understand something" was the first thing I heard when I picked up the phone.

"Sure thing, Sis - what's up?"

"Ok first you should know that you're on speakerphone," she says.

"Gotcha so no talking about how you're teaching my nieces to slowly drive their daddy insane," I say.

"Ha ha," says the brother-in-law. "It's not that slow and it's a very short drive."

"Tell me about your proms" she asks.

Now - the nice part about family members who talk fairly frequently is that details are rarely necessary. So I don't ask her why she wants to know about the proms that I attended. I figure that'll become clear when she hears what she wants to hear.

"Sure thing. Well both of them were in SF proper - downtown, so like either the Mark Hopkins or the Fairmont Hotel - I forget which year was which place. We rented limos to drive us and it was up to the guys to park their cars at the hotel the day before (or the day of) so that we would have a way to get home the next day, after we'd spent the night ..."

And at this point, I can hear the BIL in the background already laughing in disbelief. "So wait wait wait hold up - these were like rooms on the sly or something then, right?"

"Noooo," we sisters reply in unison. "Heck, I think Mom even paid for mine one year" she adds. "It makes sense when ya' think about it - I mean, they knew we'd be drinking so the last thing they'd want is for us to drive and plus, it gave us a place to be sick the next morning before we'd head to breakfast."

"Oh sure - I'm sure that excuse went over REALLY well with your dad," says my BIL.

I responded "Well, not for your wife's choices of dates no - but I was dating the same guy throughout high school and he was damn near adopted into the family so it wasn't an issue with me."

"And actually, after prom was dwindling down", she chimed in, "we'd move the kegs from room to room as various couples either hooked up or drank themselves to sleep. So anyway, the reason I'm asking is that some prom up here got shut down over the weekend 'cause they were dancing too ... suggestively ... for the teachers attending or something. It was on a boat too, so that had to suck, right? I guess they just turned off the music and sat on the water for like three hours before heading back ashore."

"Oh yeah", I said. "I read about that yesterday I think. Yanno, in 1984 the senior class at my high school sank their prom boat in the bay. It was a Blue and Gold Fleet boat and I dunno what all they did but they sank it. There were lawsuits and everything. In fact, my senior class tried to rent a boat a couple of years later and they STILL wouldn't accept our business."

"So seriously - you two had proms in hotels in the city???" asked the BIL, with TOTAL disbelief.

"Yeah," I snorted. "Geez - can you imagine how lame it woulda been to have held it in the gym? Hell - who woulda gone to THAT? 'Wow - the basketball hoop looks just like the moooooon'." My sister and I were laughing pretty well by this point.

"So did you pull up the video that showed how they were dancing?" I asked. "Oh yeah," they both responded. "Honestly it wasn't as bad as it's being made out to be around here." And then my brother-in-law made a comment that I LOVED hearing. "I laughed when I saw it was a girls Catholic high school. Figures."

And I probably SHOULD have resisted, but I didn't. "Well - your wife went to a Catholic middle school and after they saw what she'd become, my folks made sure to send me to a public one - which may be why she's like she is and why I'm like I am. Speaking of which ... sayyyyy my oldest niece has been accepted into the private Catholic elementary school up there, right?"

"Yes," was the rather stoic reply from my BIL. "But" my sister added "both of your nieces are gonna go from being young girls who loathe boys directly to 27 year old women so we won't need to worry about how they dance."

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Ok now for all ... three .... of you readers out there: Your/your dates dress was the color of? and your prom song was?

Because It's Been In My Head

You Are There. I Am Here. She'll Be Her Somewhere Else.

It's true. Wherever you are? You're there. You may not desire that location - heck, you may be mystified as to how you arrived there ... or how you'll depart from there - yet there you are.

Me? I'm here.

A year ago, there were days ... dark and ugly days indeed ... where I questioned if I'd be anywhere at all a year from then ... that is to say, if I'd be anywhere today. I'm still grateful - annoyingly so at times - that I am where I am - right "here". It isn't where I thought I'd be but, considering the alternatives, I'm truly and honestly at peace with "here". Not a heartbeat doesn't pass where I don't realize WHY it took nearly 41-years to get "here".

Even when "here" looks a little too familiar to my "there" of the late 80's, I can review the person I was when I was "there" and see that "she" woulda neeeeevvvvvvver been able to be "here" without having gone "there" first. I'm relieved that I walked away from "her" and from "there". It's not something "she" did alone, but "she" thanked those that needed to be thanked and I'm fine with how "she" and I left things.

And then, soon, I'll be somewhere else as "Her". I gotta say ... I envy "Her" so much. She's so deserving of what the me of now is preparing.

But that's somewhere that isn't "here" or "there". And it's "Her" job to get all of us from Here To There.