filling in

I made it thirty years.

Thirty years of relatively good health and non-momentous doctor incidents (well, except for labor). No broken bones, cavities, fillings, surgeries, braces, retainers, splints, stitches (well, there were those two...). And then, in no time flat, here I go breaking my toe and now, today, getting THREE fillings.

How is it that for thirty years I never knew I had 1) a small mouth 2) a crazy strong gag reflex and 3) very pointy teeth with deep grooves?

And how is it, exactly, that my dentist failed to mention that I was going to be in pain all day? She made it sound like I'd head off to work and have a perfectly normal day - NOT that I would be aching and completely unable to eat anything - most particularly the delectable cookies I baked for tonight's snack at class. Trust me, had I known I would have signed up to bring snack NEXT week. I'm getting high off cookie fumes.

This morning was one of the weirdest experiences of my life. The oddness of feeling nothing yet tasting the disgusting banana flavored numbing gel, smelling hot tooth dust and seeing up two people's nostrils as they poked around inside my mouth... being helpless to close my jaw, move my tongue, drink a glass of water (and the last for hours!). It wasn't awful, by any stretch, though it certainly wasn't pleasant. Then again, I feel the same way about pap smears, so maybe I'm a little odd. Well.

And soon I shall have to have those pesky two wisdom teeth (that are practically on my tonsils due to that tiny mouth I mentioned) yanked. Expect more whining then.

I certainly hope I won't be making up for those first thirty years in the second thirty.

whistle while you work

I'm sitting at my keyboard with dust surrounding me and crumbs beneath my feet, grinding into the hardwood floor and my soles. There were bugs in my Tupperware of orzo last night, discovered when they floated lazily to the top of the boiling water like tiny black bubbles. My tush is perched at the edge of an irreparably broken chair with the left arm dangling.

It sounds like squalor, I know.

Believe it or not, I am someone who loves to clean. There is such a contented, whole feeling about everything in its place, like my mind is free to wander and soar because there's so much free space!

But lately it feels like drudgery. I clean the kitchen to perfection and in what feels like moments the floor needs to be swept, the counter cleared, the stovetop wiped and the dishes done. I feel sucked dry by the monotony of it.

Laundry feels freeing - I love the finished feeling of it, of having fresh clothes to wear and them all tucked into their sweet little homes, awaiting my use. It never gets old, even though I do it twice a week. The sight of the hamper filling warms me, because I know those lovely clean things were used happily. Cooking is always a joy - and I don't mind cleaning as I go, or cleaning the kitchen after - to me, that's the culmination of a job well done. The sigh of contentment in action form.

Maybe it's because I can see those things in a creative stance, as a creative project, a renewing of health, warmth, and life to our home and our selves. Why, I wonder, can't I couch the dusting, swiffering, and general kitchen tidying those ways? Is it because I'm not always the one who creates the mess? Because the floor isn't meant for granola bar bits and hot sauce splats while the bowls and towels are meant to be mussed? Yet these things are caused by our living of life, enjoying of our home, loving of each other.

I want to be Cinderella, Giselle, Snow White. Not for the prince at the end, but for the joy in the process while in dusty, dirty, disgusting homes.

Like mine.

Haiti

IMG_2877
Originally uploaded by katester.

My dear friend Katie just got back from a spur-of-the-moment whirlwind trip to Haiti, and while I can't even tell you why exactly she went, I CAN tell you that you have to go check out her pictures.

tidbits

• Inspired by this post on one of my favorite blogs I have decided to attempt to go shampoo free. No, I had never even HEARD of this idea before reading that post, but really.... why not? So.... my first shampoo-free wash (yesterday) was delightful. My hair air-dried beautifully and I was nuts over it. Today, without washing again, it's doing some little flippy things I don't like - but let's be honest, it did those things before. More updates to follow as I endeavor to be 'poo free (I just like saying that).
• On the same note, tonight I will try washing my face with oil. For an oily skinned gal this is a particularly daunting idea, but I'm intrigued. And again, why not?
• This is one of my favorite new recipes. Easy, yummy, good at any temperature. I plan to use it to wow people at my next potluck, whenever that may be.
• There's a lovely yeasty smell about my home right now (accented by a burning rosemary scented candle) and I have to share why. My breadmaker is churning away pizza dough. Here's the recipe: 1 1/2 cups very hot water, 2 tsp yeast, 2 tsp sugar, 1 tsp salt, 3 1/4 cups flour. Set it to the dough setting and go about your business. In an hour and a half (that's about how long it'll take to finish), spill it out onto flour and turn it till it's not sticky anymore. Place on a greased cookie sheet, and pull to fill the whole sheet. Cover with toppings (I use a small can of tomato sauce, some spices, a pound of shredded mozzarella and some pepperoni most nights) and plunk in a 400 degree over for 16-20 minutes. It's heavenly.
  

of wishes and longings

I firmly believe that when there's a message that needs to get to you, the universe conspires to make it absolutely, painfully, blatantly clear. Strange little coincidences - like the same theme or sentiment in a card someone sends you, the book you pick up to read, magazine articles you read in waiting rooms, your conversation with a friend, and your fortune cookie fortune. It doesn't happen to me often but when it does, it's big.

PUT SOME DREAMS OUT THERE ON THE TABLE.

That's what's been blaring in my ears the last week or two, from all sources and in every way. And, oddly enough (wink, wink), I had just recently started a list in my journal of all the things I want, big and small. Lemme share.

• a really, really good-fitting pair of jeans.
• about five more inches of hair (I haven't told you my awful hair-cutting story? Oh, I will.)
• a netbook. This one, to be particular.
  
• some solitude.
• more time with my parents.
• to hear some really good live music.
• Starbucks' prices to go down.
• a black pencil skirt.
• to be financially secure.
  
• the laundry to be done.
• more opportunities to write.
• Olive sleeping on her own with no problems.
• more readers & commenters on this here blog.
• my tomatoes to finally ripen.
• a carne asada burrito.
• better posture.
• my girlfriends to move onto my street.
• to be a full-time writer.
  
• to find a community to plug myself happily into.
• Jeff and I to be able to work the same schedule, rather than opposites.
• my kitchen remodeled.

That's all I have written down so far, though I know there's more. I'll keep compiling.

But the other thing the wide world of divinity has been attaching to this whole dream thing is the book, The Artist's Way. I had bought the book years and years ago and just recently pulled it from the bookshelf to peruse - and then suddenly, everyone, everywhere was talking about it. About working it in community. And so...

I want to start a group to work through it together.

Meet once a week, go through the book or the workbook or both - it's supposed to be a 12 week study. I don't rightfully know where to begin, so here's my plea - if you know any Twin Citians who might want to do such a thing - or maybe you are one? - let me know, or let them know to look here and email me at confessionsofanovice at gmail dot com. Because I'm ready to embark.

mangia!

Isn't it a thing of beauty?!?! This is one of the most delectable things you will ever encounter, and I just had to share it.

***This recipe was posted on my previous blog, back in the dark ages of Xanga, a few years ago. I just pulled it out to make for my birthday dinner and, once again, it was too good not to share.

Momma brought the recipe and made it for us one night and all I can say is OH...MY...GOSH. Fabulous! I like to give credit where credit is due, but I'm not sure from whence it came - Mom loves Everyday Italian, but I can't be sure that's the source. Whoever it is, they deserve a big 'ol kiss...

Pasta Pie

Saute 1 cubed eggplant and 6 cloves of minced garlic in olive oil, salt & pepper. Cool.

Brown 1lb Italian sausage (casings removed) with 1/3 cup red wine to cook together. Cool.

Boil water and cook 8oz angel hair pasta 1-2 minutes (or use 8 oz spaghetti and cook as the package directs).

Mix the above together and add 1 cup parmesan reggiano, 1lb shredded mozzarella, and 3 cups marinara sauce (one 15oz jar of Prego works in a pinch, though you didn't hear that from this Italian girl!).

Line bottom & sides of a springform pan with thawed puff pastry (buy the box of two sheets from the frozen dessert section at the supermarket) - reserve a piece to put over the top. Dump the pasta mixture into the pan, top with pastry and seal. Cut slits in the top and then bake for 1 1/2 hours at 375.

You will never regret the experience, or the time you put in to make it. Oh, and you should invite company - it feeds an army!

my name in print!

There's a delightful little magazine called My Hometown that is geared for those lovely San Diegans who live in the South Bay (hello to any of you who are visiting from there!!). Believe it or not, this Minnesota girl has an article in there this month, and I am very proud. Hope you enjoy perusing the issue (you ARE going over there, aren't you?) and if you're looking... you'll find me on page 24.

Open publication - Free publishing - More eastlake

option overload

Stress can kill you. We've all read how stress is a risk factor for every malady under the sun and while I'm sure we're all enjoying our yoga, red wine and long hot soaks in the tub (at least I know I am) there is still so much more to deal with. Wouldn't it be easier to staunch it at the starting point - before the stress emerges?

Which is why I shake my fist at food companies and supermarkets. Truly, do we need an entire aisle of cold breakfast cereal? It takes forever to wade through even if you know what you're looking for - and Lord help you if you don't. Organic or not? Healthy or sugar laden? With tiny freeze dried excuses for marshmallows or not? Reduced sugar, gluten free, with fiber twigs? Flakes, O's, puffed? Blueberry, cranberry, banana, honey & nut, yogurt covered, apple cinnamon or plain? And then once you've finally decided there comes another last hurdle - generic or name brand? This is a vital question. Generic honey nut Cheerios suck; store brand Chex are A-okay. And if you make it home after making all those decisions and you don't like it? Dare I say... stress?

Don't get me started on salad dressing, soda, sandwich bread, or - worst of all - Starbucks. Never mind, I'm started. Half caf, decaf or full? Skim, whole, nonfat or soy? Tall, grande, or venti (and why can't we just say small, medium or large)? With foam or without? Vanilla, hazelnut, carmel, white chocolate or some other? Sugar free or regular? With room or no? Coffee, cappuccino, espresso, latte, macchiato, or americano? And all this is AFTER you've already decided you want coffee, as opposed to tea or tea lattes or smoothies or hot chocolate or whatever other thing they're currently pushing.

I can feel my shoulders tensing as I type.

It's exhausting. One teensy tiny trip to SuperTarget (which, of course, has a Starbucks inside) can take absolutely forever, never mind that the operator on the red help phone line won't even know what capers ARE, much less where to find them. Not that I'm bitter.

So, in trying to dam the river of my rapidly diminishing sanity... I'm going to the co-op where options are more limited (though who knows if they'll have capers, either). Follow me or no but PLEASE for the love of God, people, quit buying fruity Cheerios and just get Fruit Loops - IT'S THE SAME THING.