Author: 459856pwpadmin

  • The Needle Knows

    The month since my mom returned to Texas has not been my best knitting month.  I made progress on the lovely lilac shawl while she was here, but I  seem to have lost the ability to concentrate the past few weeks. Although the pattern is simple, the repeat a short 8 rows, I kept flubbing up and having to rip.  I did this a few times before I just admitted that my hands were telling me something, that my mind wasn't really able to concentrate, and something simpler was needed.  I had a ball of sock yarn wound and at the ready. The simple action of needles and yarn in hand sets a soothing rhythm that calms the spirits and allows the mind to rest.  I wonder sometimes, as I knit, purring cat on my lap, if knitting, at least for those of us who enjoy it, something like a human approximation of purring, a self-soothing technique, allowing us to settle into comfort.

     

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    Simple. Toe-up.  Mindless knitting at its finest.  Except that this photo was taken a couple of days ago and I am now ready to turn the heel.  Thank goodness I do believe I am ready for a little more intention in my knitting. 

  • Permission Granted

    Sometimes you have to allow yourself to get a little lost. Just like you have to open yourself up and be vulnerable to truly connect with others, you also sometimes have to lose a bit of that worldly shell you've spent your lifetime building up in order to find some piece of your true self that has been there all along. 

     

    And that's the easy part.

     

    Once you've found that piece of your true self, you have to nurture it and give it room to flourish.  You have to give yourself permission to be your true self even if doing so makes you vulnerable. And vulnerability is exactly what we spend the first half of our lives trying to avoid.

     

    I protect myself by throwing myself into projects.  But projects end, and I am still here.  Although lately it has seemed like a little less of me was here.  I used to lose myself in knitting, or sewing, or writing, or cooking.  But I have managed to ignore all those things.  Oh I write here occasionally.  I'm sure you've noticed that I write, then I stop, then I pick at it again.  I've been playing the role of the dilettante with my own heart, indulging my impulses a little bit, and then, just when I start to really put in any effort, pulling back.

     

    But why?

     

    Because I am afraid.

     

    What, exactly, am I afraid of? Am I afraid of losing myself in something? Perhaps. Am I afraid of doing the work to master new skills? No not really, anything worth doing is worth taking time and effort to master.  I'm getting closer though, perhaps the critical phrase is "worth doing".  Am I afraid that my impulses, my hopes and dreams and inner longings aren't worth indulging? Am I afraid that if I indulge my intimations and dreams, if I admit and honor the things that really drive me, that are important to me, that I will only learn how much of an incompetent failure I really am?   Uh oh.  That is a little too uncomfortably close to the truth.

     

    I realize, although how I found myself through this maze of confusing thoughts and experiences is beyond me, that it is not about internal vs external, doing vs being, introverted vs extroverted, helping others vs helping yourself.  All of these things are but mirrors deflecting my awareness from some greater, far more uncomfortable truth.  I can't honor the external, the world, without honoring the internal.  I can't honor my social, world-caring impulses, without honoring the private, internal, creative impulses.  I can't help others unless I help myself.  I can't love others unless I love myself. 

     

    Oops.  I've said it.  I can't love others unless I love myself. When things get too close, too vulnerable, when I get too close to falling into that pit of love, I pull back.  I don't want to pull back, but I do.  And I only pay lip service to loving myself, to truly loving myself, to loving myself enough that I give myself permission to be myself fully, not just the parts I think the world wants me to be, but the parts I want myself to be, all the creative impulses, all the insecurities and fears. 

     

    Baby steps.  I have to take baby steps.  Occasionally I am sure I will make a misstep; I will fall and stumble, but I will try not to fall back into the void.

     

    And so I give myself permission to lose myself in creative pursuits.  I give myself permission to follow a dream even if the end point or benefit is not immediately obvious.  I give myself permission to put myself first when I need to put myself first.  I give myself permission to make mistakes, and sometimes make wrong decisions, and to ask for forgiveness when I do so.  Mostly I give myself permission to learn to love all of myself, even the secret vulnerable bits.

  • Early Mornings in the Garden

    I've been remiss in my early morning gardening of late.  It seems that by the time I return from my morning walk with Tikka, the heat and humidity are rising and we are both ready to settle down for a rest, Tikka with a dental treat and me with a second cup of coffee.  I do however often take that coffee on the back porch where I can admire the garden.

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    Yesterday morning the fog was heavy in the valleys of my neighborhood, and the weeds were thick as well, so I decided to forgo the walk and spend the early morning hours communing with the dirt and greenery.  It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience as I was in no rush, really, and there is a certain meditative quality to mindful repetition.  During that first hour, when even in the close space of the backyard, occasional wisps of fog lingered the morning air seemed magical, even mystical and I would lose myself in whatever small piece of earth and greenery was in front of me, occasionally pulled out of my reverie by the soft snuffling of Tikka sniffing in the grass, her soft ears brushing against my face or hands.

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    The two foxglove plants that had been crushed under large rocks by absent-minded workers are recovering nicely, and even blooming.   The Echinacea are blooming nicely, and even a few bits of new green leaves are coming up from the former stands of Siberian and Louisiana Iris that were scalped by an over-eager member of the maintenance crew for the neighborhood association.  He was not supposed to cut anything in marked beds, but I am sure he meant well, and couldn't tell the difference between the long fine iris leaves and grass.  It is too late now anyway, and I am thrilled to see a few tiny new shoots of growth in the otherwise bare ground.  Those two beds have been a bit of a failure from the get-go, plants left too long before planting, repeatedly trampled, and generally never really getting a good start, so perhaps the weed-whacking was just the final straw before I committed to re-digging and starting over. In retrospect I think this bed is a good reminder of the bad habits I did not want to repeat in this new garden: buying plants before I had ground ready so that they could be planted and buying more plants than I could reasonably plant in a couple of days.

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     Anyway, there are other successes and surprises.  The daylilies are thriving and blooming and the lily bulbs I planted have buds so I should have flowers before long.  The blueberries have fruit, and every evening Tikka and I romp in the grass and I finish of the day with a small handful of berries. And the beautiful hydrangea in the front yard, the one that started out icy cool and refreshing,  is fading into the most interesting soft soothing shades of pink. 

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    As for the pots, they seem to thrive in the heat and humidity and have suddenly become full and lush and vibrant. The ferns that languished when it was cool and damp, and again when it was hot and dry, are now thriving. The front planters too, seem to be bursting with exuberant color. Mid summer is here and I can sit back and just enjoy the verdant lushness of it all. 

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  • Acquisition Week?

    New sun hat for working in the garden.

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    It is actually the same as the previous sun-hat, which I had for over 10 years, before it got so disreputable I really couldn't wear it.  I love the blue under-brim, which enhances that feeling of carrying my shade around with me.

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    Because I am the kind of person who got a sunburn when I was out watering the garden between 4:30 and 4:45 PM (no I wasn't wearing sunscreen), I also got a couple of loose shirts out of the same Solumbra fabric.  I've worn these before as well, and they are exactly the kind of loose airy clothes that don't creep up when I'm crawling around that I prefer for working in the garden.

     

    Geesh, it seems like all acquisitions all the time around here, which really isn't the case.  I'm just too tired to write anything else this morning, and I do love my hat, perhaps unreasonably so for such a simple thing.

  • Bright and Shiny Things

    Last week I bought a pair of Birkenstocks.  Nothing remarkable at all. Or is it? Remarkable that is?

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    I had purchased some Birks years ago and hated them.  They made my feet hurt.  Worse, they made my back hurt, hurt for days after I wore them.  I assumed it was just me, just my back, and I abandoned all hope of wearing them despite having many friends who swear by their comfort, support, and all-around practicality.

     

    Ends up it was my back, it was the growing herniated disk in my low back that I (successfully?) managed to ignore for years, until it plastered me flat on my back for two months before my back surgery last year.  It seems there were many things that were due to my back, but not in the way I initially believed.  There also may have been some internal struggle between my comfortable, baggy-jeans-at-home, self and my urban, designer-clad, insecurity-driven self reflected in that initial rejection of Birkenstocks, but then it is amazing what a couple of months of immobility followed by a new chance at life will resolve.

     

    I first saw these bright shiny reflective Birkenstocks in Dillards when my mom was here and I looked at them and dismissed them.  My thoughts went something along the lines of:

     Oooh, Pretty…..

    Can't wear them, remember my back hurt?

    But, pretty….

    Too bright, too shiny……

    But pretty……

    Reflective too, way too much happening on those shoes…..

    Leave now…

    Sigh, so pretty…..

     .

    I was back in Dillards last week, refreshing a few supplies from the cosmetics department, when I happened to walk past those same shiny shoes.  I remembered that there are quite a few things I used to not be able to do that I can now, now that my back is better, and I thought it couldn't hurt to try them on. So I did, and they were phenomenally comfortable in the store, and pretty, and very very shiny. Not surprisingly, they came home with me.

     

    I wore them most of the day yesterday, and I loved wearing them.  Their shiny pinkness made me smile. They are far and away the brightest, shiniest things I own, and yet that doesn't matter. Shiny Pink Birkies. Who knew? 

  • Yellow Flowers and Dreams of Sunshine

    These Flowers came Friday.

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    See, no matter what the weather is doing outside, I have my own sunshine right here on my dining table. Today is my 57th birthday and I embrace it.  My gift to myself is to allow myself to lose myself, and for now, that means that I am finally setting up the sewing room.  I couldn't be happier.

     

    On a completely irrelevant aside, when people wish me happy birthday, I always want to say "and Happy Birthday to you, too" which is kind of silly, because it is not their birthday.  But it could be. Granted we are only born on one day, and the anniversary of that birth is well worth celebrating, but it  in our minds and hearts we carry the potential for everyday to be a new birthday, a new day, a new birth, and a day where we carry our own sunshine with us.

     

    And so. Happy Birthday to all of you, from me.  I'd like to share the joy, share in the celebration of life, and I hope that some new sunshine is born in each of your hearts and lives today.

     

     

     

  • Happy 4th of July

    This is a re-posting of my July 4th 2012 post, with minor revisions.  

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    I love the 4th of July.  I love the parades and the fireworks, the campfires, fired up grills, and the happy spirit of people gathered in town squares and lawns.  At its best this holiday honors people at their communal best, of what brought this country together and what makes us great.  

     

    On the Fourth of July it seems that all our bickering should be put aside and we should just celebrate how lucky we are, or at least have a piece of pie, some ice cream, or a snow cone.

     

    Although my original plans for today were washed out, weather permitting, I hope to meet some friends downtown, enjoy a concert, and see some fireworks.

     

    Hope you have a lovely 4th!

  • In My Neighborhood This Week

    Three photos from my morning walks:

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    And one from the evening, shortly before sunset.  The play of evening light on the clouds has been beautiful this week, but capturing it is beyond my abilities.  Perhaps another learning project awaits.

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  • The Angel Food Chronicles

    Near the end of my mother's visit we were invited to a party.  I was supposed to bring dessert.  I decided to make an angel food cake.  Once upon a time I made angel food cakes all the time, so often that I felt like I could whip them up in my sleep. I used my great-grandmother's recipe and it always turned out beautifully.  And then, for some reason I can no longer recollect, I stopped.

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    But this summer has been hot, and I didn't want anything fancy. I actually don't really eat dessert much anymore but I wanted to develop a small repertoire of standards that I could whip up whenever the need arose.  The only requirements were that they be both gluten-free and dairy-free so that everyone in my family could enjoy them. Angel Food cakes and chiffon cakes are dairy free by definition, so angel food seemed like a good place to start.  After all, an angel food cake only calls for roughly 1 cup of flour, how hard could it be to adapt to gluten-free flours?

     

    Famous Last Words.

     

    At least I knew enough to make a test cake early in the week, before the party.  So I pulled out a cookbook by a famous baker looking for an angel food cake recipe.  Why not use my grandmother's recipe?  Well, I don't have it written down.  It is still in my head, and I remembered the basic proportions, but I've not been feeling really confident about baking lately and I wanted some kind of official guidance. I didn't trust my gut.  So I defaulted to a famous baker, who shall remain unnamed. 

     

    I should have trusted my gut.  I made the cake following famous baker's recipe.  The eggs did not rise as high as I expected when I was beating them, but I suspected my memory was faulty. The cake went in the oven and looked beautiful as it was baking but did not rise anywhere near the top of the tube pan. When it was done I removed it from the oven, placed the cake, in the pan, upside down over a wine bottle to cool, and sat down at the dining table to talk to my mom. 

     

    At some point during our conversation, perhaps about 15 minutes after setting the cake aside to cool, we heard a soft swoosh and thump, more like a floomph sound, and looked up.  The cake pan was still on the bottle, but all around it, on the counter, was a lump of sticky egg whites and sugar, a pseudo-cake, almost an angel-pudding cake.

     

    Such a thing had never happened to me before.

     

    I probably should have taken pictures of the process and the various stages, but at that point I didn't yet realize it would be a process.

     

    I pulled out all my cookbooks that had angel food cake recipes.  I spent some time on the web researching problems with angel food cakes and I realized the cake had probably not cooked long enough, although it was also possible the proportions were off. Most recipes, and Michael Ruhlman's Ratio agreed. My memories of my great-grandmother, Mamie's, angel food cake recipe were right on target:

     

    Mamie's Cake: 12 egg whites, 1 1/2 cups sugar, 1 cup flour, 1 teaspoon vanilla, 1 teaspoon cream of tartar, 1/2 teaspoon salt.

     

    Ruhlman's Ratio: 12 ounces egg whites, 12 ounces sugar, 4 ounces flour, 1 tablespoon lemon juice, 1 teaspoon vanilla, 1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar, 1/2 teaspoon salt.  The weights correlate pretty closely to my grandmother's recipe.

     

    But the next two cakes (or was it three?) also fell.  I baked the cakes longer and longer but it seemed to make no difference.  The outside of the cake would be overdone while the middle remained too sticky, too sweet.

     

    So I thought I would google gluten-free angel food cakes and see what I came up with.  You might think I should have done that first, but I disagree.  My experiences starting with gluten-free blogs and websites are generally not good.  Not surprisingly, I found some pretty strange angel food cake recipes.  Although there were some that worked with classic ingredients and proportions, there were many that did not.  And the photos of the resulting cakes all looked lovely, but many seemed a little dense, like grocery store angel food cake, which I have always felt is on the heavy side, and not as airy as an angel food cake should be. All of the recipes added xanthan gum to the flour blend though, and I thought this was worth a try. 

     

    But I didn't have any xanthan gum.  I had guar gum.  More googling.  They are interchangeable.  They are not interchangeable. One may need to combine them depending on the desired result and the humidity.  My head was beginning to spin. I went to Kroger. They only had xanthan gum in a pint sized bag.  At 1 teaspoon per cake I may have a lifetime supply.

     

    The next cake rose higher and looked more like it should.  The cake tester was clean, but the cake still fell out of the pan.  This cake however had better texture and seemed more cake-like.   So for the next version I included the xanthan gum and increased the cream of tartar from Ruhlman's 1/2 teaspoon to the full 1 teaspoon my great-grandmother had used.

     

    This cake was beautiful, it rose above the top of the tube pan in the oven and I was thrilled.  But when the time was up and I removed the cake, it had fallen, and now only went about 2/3 up the sides of the pan. My heart was heavy, but I propped the pan up on the wine bottle and left it to cool anyway.  It did not fall out of the pan.  And the resulting cake was good, with good flavor.  The texture was a little dense, but not unpleasantly so, only slightly more dense than those store-bought angel-food cakes of memory (I haven't' actually eaten a store bought cake for many years).

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    (almost good enough)

     

    I realized that the last two cakes had both risen higher than the top of the pan and then fallen back.  I wondered if this had been part of the problem all along, and part of the reason the early cakes had not quite baked through.  I seemed to recall that perhaps gluten-free flour blends were lighter by weight than wheat flour.  I wondered if I just needed more flour.

     

    So I weighed a cup of my gluten-free flour blend.  It weighed 4 3/4 ounces. I decided this theory had merit.

     

    Yesterday I made another cake and used 5 ounces of flour instead of 4.  It was beautiful, and it is this cake that is at the top of this post.  I could have turned it over so it looked prettier.  But really I was just going to have one slice and ditch it, until I thought of giving it to my step-daughter and grandson.  Is it rude to give away a cake with one piece missing?  I hope not. 

     

    For a gluten-free angel food cake the proportions are: 12 ounces egg whites, 12 ounces sugar, 5 ounces gluten free flour blend, 1 teaspoon xanthan gum and 1 teaspoon cream of tartar. I used the technique and flavorings in Ratio but really, every book I own uses the same technique.  I also like the way the lemon juice brightens the flavor of the cake and slightly softens the sweetness. I will continue to use lemon juice in the future.  It is possible that you will not need the xanthan gum if your flour blend already includes it, but I would make a test cake first to be sure. I personally prefer blends that do not include xanthan gum, as it is easy enough to add when needed.

     

    So now I have 1 gluten-free, dairy-free dessert under my belt, a dessert that is good enough that  I can take it anywhere.  I have also reached my limit with sweets for a while. Perhaps in a couple of months, when the weather is cooler, I will be ready to expand my repertoire

  • Exploring Garden Photos

    Yesterday I noticed that another one of the new daylilies was in bloom so I took a little time to play with my camera. 

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    As this is its first season, and there are still lots of empty spaces… or is it just that I prefer overstuffed gardens (and understaffed interiors).  Anyway, I am at this point more interested in the close up shot, and it is something I struggle with.

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    My brothers would probably not be surprised at this.  During our teenage years, when they were fascinated with photography, they refused to let me borrow their SLR cameras as my photos were always blurry.  I know now that my eyes don't track together well, and that I am better focusing at an angle than straight on.  But I haven't yet figured out how to translate this to taking photos with manual settings.

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    It is quite possible that my photos will simply be better if I let the camera make the decisions, but I still feel driven to make the attempt to learn how to use the camera, even if that knowledge proves to be more intellectual than practical in my case, and only leads me to further appreciate the work of others, and the automatic focusing ability of my camera.

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    But then again, if the old adage that "everything worth doing is worth doing well" is to hold true, we must also remember than anything worth doing usually has a learning curve, and long before we get to "doing well" we must suffer through the "doing badly" part.

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    The crape myrtle and roses are blooming, and happy as I am with the white flowers of the foundation shrubs in front, which allow me a far greater latitude in choosing annuals, I am thrilled at the pink crape myrtle in the side yard and the possibilities for greater color chaos in the more private spaces.