nearly wordless wednesday

Because, really, if I'm going to let my hair grow out, I'm going to do something with it...every once in a while.

quick quote*

I have, for the last 1331 days, had a quotation sent to my e-mail inbox. Most of the time, I delete the e-mail without having read the quotation, but today I thought I might as well check out whatever words of wisdom had been sent my way. Here they be:

INTEMPERANCE.--A man may choose whether he will have abstemiousness and knowledge, or claret and ignorance.--DR. JOHNSON.

("Intemperance" is the category under which the quotation-choosing deities have categorized this, in case that wasn't obvious.)

Okay, then, abstemiousness is mine, bring on the knowledge! I haven't overindulged in food since, oh, this past weekend, and I have yet to ever indulge in claret. Seriously, now, where's the knowledge?

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* Alas, no quill.

a bit of lit: elizabeth jackson to her son

Still reading Women's Letters: America from the Revolutionary War to the Present, edited by Lisa Grunwald and Stephen J Adler. Still reading it very slowly.

Another good mother-to-son letter. Another letter to a to-be president. Elizabeth Jackson wrote this to her son, Andrew, when he was fourteen. She died the year she wrote this.

Excerpt:

If I should not see you again I wish you to remember and treasure up some things I already said to you: in this world you will have to make your own way. To do that you must have friends. You can make friends by being honest, and you can keep them by being steadfast. You must keep in mind that friends worth having will in the long run expect as much from you as they give to you.

...

In personal conduct always be polite, but never obsequious. No one will respect you more than you esteem yourself. Avoid quarrels as long as you can without yielding to imposition.

...

Never wound the feelings of others. If ever you have to vindicate your feelings or defend your honor, do it calmly. If angry at first, wait till your wrath cools before you proceed.

dream journal

I actually own a fancy little journal in which I've recorded a dream or two. I think the last time I did so was at least a decade ago. I like to think about my dreams, but I start to forget details pretty quickly. I forget most of my dreams entirely pretty quickly after I wake up.

Some, though, stick with me. And, every once in a while, I wish that I actually record my dreams right after I wake up. But, geez, dreams are hard for me to capture. Mine aren't always so linear and don't always make so much sense, and I start to forget things as I try get it all down on paper.

Last night, I had one of those sticking dreams. Actually, I had several dreams. This, I remember. What the other dreams were about, I forget.

What I do remember: I dreamt that I was a teenager again, living with my parents. My dream-parents (who were the same as my actual parents), filed for bankruptcy and moved us out of our house, into a two-bedroom, one-bath, tiny apartment (let's see, at about the time I was dreaming about, there would have been something like five or six of us living in our house). For whatever, reason, it took me a while to realize that we had moved, that the apartment was our new home. I really started to freak out, though, when I asked my mom if 'they' (whoever was in charge of our money at this point) would let us go back to the house to get my books. My told me they wouldn't and I flipped out. I started screaming about not being able to leave my books, about needing to go rescue at least half of them, about not caring if someone else lived there now, I would burst in and get all of my books. I was having a hard time breathing.

That's what I remember. Now, I like to analyze my own dreams. I believe that I worry even in my sleep. I don't think that my dreams -- at least the ones I remember -- are symbolic of something totally different (books? that must mean I will soon swim the English Channel, and the like). I think this dream shows what I worry about (money) and what I value, perhaps a bit too much (books).

Also, I dream that I'm a teenager again a lot. A lot of people I know and knew show up in these dreams, which are overlaid with my current worries. Actually, I sometimes worry about teenage things in those dreams, too ("what the heck is my locker combination again? I'm going to be so late to class because I can't remember it!"). I don't even live in the present when I sleep.

monday music: low notes

There is something about cello that touches a part of me; cello entrances me. If I could find a cellist who could just play forever, I could waste away watching it a la dreamers and the Mirror of Erised.

Also, Nirvana has been popping up a lot for me lately.


"2CELLOS Cover Nirvana Classic 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' Live On SiriusXM Pops"
(Sorry if the end is a little screechy for a Monday morn.)



And, well, I saw "With Or Without You" on the sidebar of the above video and The Joshua Tree is a total nostalgia album for me.


"2CELLOS (Sulic & Hauser) - LIVE 'With or Without You' by U2 (HD)"


Okay, then, I couldn't resist a little "Smooth Criminal." Now, that's only the four thousandth time I will have posted a version of that song here, no?


"2CELLOS (Sulic & Hauser) - Smooth Criminal"

food stuffs

Okay, now, it's October. It's time to get serious about this blogging stuff. I've had all these plans for blogging more regularly for months now, but, oh the rhythm. There has been no rhythm sweeping me up...in any part of my life. I would say it's time for me to create my own rhythm, but I'm one of those totally uncoordinated people who has to count aloud to dance to music. Ah, well.

Seriously, though. I'm putting my fingers to the keyboard and forcing myself to make this a frequent habit. (Does that phrase even make sense? Frequent habit?)

I haven't regularly posted about food in forever. That's certainly not because I haven't been eating. I have a complicated relationship with food. I overthink it. Then, I get all bogged down in thinking what a luxury it is for me to have the problems I do with food. Then, I realize I've gotten so wrapped up in my own head that if I don't distract myself quickly, I'll never get out.

Anyhow, I'm trying to change my relationship with food. Maybe we've grown too comfortable with one another and need to spice things up? (Except, of course, I'm a pretty big fan of very bland food.)

After all this lead up, you might be thinking that I'm going to post some spectacularly fabulous dish today, but, well, I'm not. In fact, I'm posting something I need to work on. At the same time, I'm posting something that shows me trying to widen my palate (which I just spelled "palette" and had to look up to figure out what was wrong because I knew something was off*).

So, without further spewing of words, I present to you The Breakfast of Champions:



Or, y'know, Breakfast of Those Who Like Heart-Unhealthy Foods in Very Small Quantities. Actually, this is my bowl waiting for its grits. I'm sure I've had grits before -- I even think I've made them -- but the recollection is murky. I made them according to the box, but, wow!, were they salty. I added salt to the water, as recommended and there's salt in cheese, no? My butter is unsalted, so I know it wasn't from that. The next time I prepare grits, I'm skipping the salt in the water. We'll see if that makes them any better. I certainly hope so, because I have an entire box of the things to consume.

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In other food-related bits: My child is quickly developing all of my cooking skills (or, should I say 'skillz'?). She proudly proclaimed to me the other morning that she prepared her own breakfast. When I got up, she told me, "I made breakfast for myself. I made cold toast!"

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Please note my note about ice cream on my last post. I'm still feeling the effects. I have not slept, but I have caught up on two blogs I've was so behind on! How can I finally convince myself that that much ice cream just isn't good for me (for any living creature, really)? You'd think the sleeplessness and anxiety that follows would do it, but apparently not.

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* This (it's not until 2:12, sorry) is what is now stuck in my head:


"Tommy Boy (1995) Theatrical Trailer"

happy (belated) equinox!

Okay, so we're not at all big on celebrating stuff 'round La Casa B. I would actually kind of like to celebrate more than we do, but I set about creating such big fantasies of what our celebrations could be that I never actually get around to anything. (Hey, there, that describes so much of my life. Oh, to live in the moment! Someone get that through to me already!)

This year, though, we had a built-in celebration set for autumnal equinox: camping! For one reason or another, we didn't make it out camping at any other point this summer, although we did talk about it a lot (hey, it's not just me, apparently!).

Autumn is my absolute favorite season. I love the late light of summer and the reawakening of spring (and there's probably a lot of awesomeness associated with winter, I'm sure -- oh, like moonglow reflecting off hills covered in freshly-falled snow), but autumn? O, loverly, beautiful autumn. I marvel almost daily that, "Wow, it's not even seven and it's getting dark!" and "Oh, look at that tree! Look at that tree! Look at THAT TREE!" Halloween and harvest decorations make me happy.* There's the food, too, certo: apples, pumpkins, roasted vegetables for breakfast or lunch or dinner. What's not to celebrate about autumn?

So, this year, a small group of the homeschoolers went camping, beginning on Equinox. Some of the group are regular campers (I wouldn't call us that for several more years) and one family was embarking on their first camping adventure. We had about an equal amount of adults, children and pets. (We even camped with a cat -- not ours -- who did fabulously.)

The trip was everything camping should be as far as I'm concerned: setting up/taking down, cooking/eating, hiking, talking, laughing. Also, I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've camped as an adult and have not taken my work with me. I refused to this year.

I hope this becomes a regular event. If not a yearly camping trip with the homeschoolers, though, we have plenty of other camping friends. And, yes, we could always try camping on our own again (we haven't done this since Pic was a about a year-and-a-half).

But, camping to celebrate autumnal equinox? It seemed so perfect. It was.

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* For the most part. There's a house we sometimes walk past that has an array of variously, and freakily, painted mannequin heads hanging from the the tree in the front yard. This tree does not make me happy.

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P.S. I just ate a lot of ice cream. That might just explain the strangely hyper tone here. Perhaps.