30 and counting.....on God knows what.

Call it a good imagination.  Call it creative visualization.  Call it any ‘–ation’ you want, I have somehow backed myself into a corner here. 

I love a good gut instinct.  I love a sense of certainty.  Fate.  My God, if I had a dime for every silly poem I’d written between the ages of 15 and 17 about Fate, I would not have needed student loans.  I took 5 years of Latin.  The Three Fates were my favorite part of it all.

I have made big decisions based on the tugging of my gut.  I have suffered from going against her.  The times in my life when I’ve been most unhappy, I have known deep down inside that I was miserable because I wasn’t listening to what she was telling me. 

In the past, she led me to great things.  Love, success, opportunity.  However, as I’ve gotten older, and life has not presented me with all the things my gut said it would, I have begun to….supplement her whispers.  I have tried to take the reins myself. 

I have created a monster.

You name it; I can convince myself that I want it.  Not only do I want it, but I want it with the kind of bone-deep certainty that can only come from, you guessed it – Fate.  Long lost loves on foreign continents – go for it.  Move across the country, and back again – yes, brilliant idea.  Become a doctor, lawyer, Indian chief – it’s what was you were meant to do.  On an average morning’s commute, I am able to create the most perfect lives for myself.  I am so convincing that I can’t tell where reality ends and fantasy begins.  And when whatever I’ve convinced myself of doesn’t materialize it’s, ‘Oh, well. On to the next destiny, I’ve got plenty.’ 

Now, when I really need clarity based on fact and reason, there is no reason to speak of.  Who knows what I really want?  Who knows what’s right? 

I know what you'll say. You'll say, 'Don't be so hard on yourself.' ‘We’re all in the same boat.’ 'Go with the flow.'  'It’ll all work out in the end.’

Well friends, the one thing you can't say anymore is, 'Go with your gut.'  My gut has left the building. 

30 and counting….verification nation.

  

When I post links to my blog, I have to type in one of those internet verification codes.  Usually I just hurriedly type the nonsense words and get on with my posting. 

Call it another way to procrastinate, call it too much time spent online; but, the day ‘trinity misdeed’ popped up in my security box, I started to pay attention. Just who writes these things?  ‘trinity misdeed’?  Is this a
Da Vinci Code reference?   ‘sandbank Mass’?  Does someone need a vacation? 

I began to picture a guy, large and clammy, bent over a desk littered with stacks and stacks of papers.  There are empty cups and coffee rings on every surface.  His shirt is yellowed with sweat and desperation.  It’s dim and dank with only a buzzing fluorescent tube for light.  Sweat beads on his upper lip as he mumbles to himself and relentlessly cranks out some sort of broken memoir/manifesto.  He’s more than just the CAPTCHA guy, damn it, he’s got something to say to the world. The following is a list of the insanity/inanity that has followed:

cherished debtor

herd maharishi’s

Gauguin Studio

aborted Maxwell

cubist lair

nonwhites penknife

loves lyme

Amanda at

Sylvia trip

shepherd cabin 

porcine Rosenblatt

gripping new

Based on my analysis, we are dealing with a fallen Catholic (‘trinity misdeed’, ‘herd maharishi’s’) art-loving racist (‘Gauguin Studio’/ ‘cubist lair’ + ‘nonwhites penknife’) anglophile (‘loves lyme’) who may or may not want to kill himself (‘Sylvia trip’=Sylvia Plath + ‘shepherd cabin’, i.e. heaven, as Jesus was a ‘shepherd’= possible self-harm, if you follow my logic).  I’m not even going to touch ‘aborted Maxwell.’  Is ‘porcine Rosenblatt’ a dig at a heavy-set Jewish boss? 

I’m sure that CAPTCHA’s are computer generated.  I’m sure that my sweaty recluse does not exist outside the walls of my procrastination fantasies.  Still, how can you re-type ‘untruth L.I’ and not take a moment to wonder……

*thank you, Erica.

30 and counting....Recession Soup

It’s no secret that my sister and I live on a budget.  Dave Ramsey is something of an icon at our house.  So, as I’ve mentioned before, each week we head to the farmer’s market with our $20 allowance for vegetables and fruit.  Lately, we have been getting squash for $1/lb. All kinds of squash: zucchini, yellow squash, satellite squash, little Italian squash, you name it. 

The other night, due to budgetary constraints, I was faced with a few onions, a few cloves of garlic, and squash.  There was literally nothing else.  (Ok, there was peanut butter and one can of chick peas.  Not the most inspiring ingredients.)  What to do, what to do?  Sautéed squash all by itself didn’t seem like enough.  Turning the oven on seemed like a waste of time and energy.  Should we eat it raw?  No thank you, too sad.  So, with thoughts of the Great Depression and stone soup on my mind, I got out my biggest pot. 

First, I chose a large onion from the bunch and chopped it up.  Knowing that all good things start with an onion sweating in a pan, I threw them into the pot with a heaping tablespoon of olive oil.  Next, a clove of garlic.  Once the onions started to soften up, I threw in all the squash I had (about 2 lbs, chopped into manageable chunks).  I cooked the squash with the onions and garlic for longer than I normally would when making soup.  Since I didn’t have vegetable stock on hand, I didn’t want to have to boil too long with plain old water.  So, I cooked the squash until it was nice and soft, letting everything get a tiny bit of brown color even.  Finally, I poured in enough water to just cover the squash/onion mixture.  I added salt and pepper, covered it all, and let it boil for about 10 minutes.  I took it off the heat, and busted out the immersion blender.  I added 2 tsp of dry thyme to give the soup some sort of point of view, and I finished it off with a little more olive oil (about a tablespoon) to make it smooth and creamy without the cream. 

It was great.  We ate every bit.  Necessity is the mother of invention, as is poverty sometimes.  It probably cost about 3 bucks to make, total.  Thank god, because sometimes 3 bucks is all we have.  I’d be willing to bet you could make soup out of anything this way.  Water, onion, and a little ingenuity.  Ah, Recession Soup, food for the starving wallet. 

Ingredients:

1 large onion, chopped

1-2lbs squash (any variety), chopped into medium chunks

1 clove of garlic, chopped

Water to cover

Olive oil to sauté and finish

2tsp dry thyme

Salt and pepper to taste