Pimento Cheese & Other Good Stuff

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What a difference a day can make.

Waking up to blue skies is good.  But this other good stuff that tucked me into bed last night sure didn’t hurt.

1. Shedding a few good tears: Last night, as I was presenting a paper in class, my eyes began to water and before I knew it, a few tears had escaped.  For years, I avoided crying in public because I thought crying signaled weakness.  I’ve obviously gotten over this thinking, eight years removed from the business world.  But it has helped me to learn, from my spiritual direction reading, that crying not only remove toxins from our bodies but that it helps lead us to heart’s truth whenever we follow the tears.  I’m still working on the leading, but at least I’ve a good signpost to direct the search.

2. Reading a good book: After class, I picked up a book that has languished on my nightstand for months.  One page into it, I thought…,  “Ahhh.”    Two pages into it, I thought,… “Oh, why have I denied myself this pleasure for so long?”  And my third  and next thoughts joined those in the story.  The irony of the novel’s title, The Help, is not lost on me, even as I became lost in the story.  I went to bed grateful for the writing gift of Kathryn Stockett — and for having the good sense of finally putting pleasure before work.

3.  A Good Lap Dog: I slipped into bed before reaching for the comfort of that good book.  Yet, before I could crack open its covers,  my forty-six pound poodle boy was covering me from neck to foot.  I adore a good lap dog, which was the reason we brought a little Scottish Terrier into our lives last summer; but Max has proved to be more of a lap dog than Cosmo, in spite of his being too big for my lap.  But, who cares if his front legs cover my chest and his head rests on my tummy and his trunk and legs cover my trunk and legs.  Maybe last night I needed more than a good lap dog  because Max fit my need perfectly.

Soul care comes in all shapes and sizes.  Inevitably, I find mine buried right under my nose — or sliding down beside it.   Sometimes we can find it buried between two slices of bread, like this other good stuffing.

Pimento Cheese

Spread on bread, crackers, corn chips or celery sticks.

1 lb of grated Cheddar cheese (I sometimes use half Cheddar and half Monterey or Pepper Jack)
1 4 oz jar diced pimentos (do not drain)
1 Tbsp sugar
Dash of salt, white pepper and garlic powder
2 dashes of Tabasco
Mayonnaise to moisten (3/4 to 1 cup — I use Duke’s Mayonnaise)

Combine and mix all ingredients.  Keeps in the fridge for several days.

Whether Questions

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Cars are driving into work while my husband is making his way toward Houston.

Snow too, is on its way.  Perhaps it will be a light covering this time, unlike our last two, which left 10 inches and six inches before it left town.

Meanwhile, inside my home, and inside my skin, I’m feeling restless.  I’ve this sense that I’m to do something, but I don’t know what.   Am I forgetting something?

Some questions about the future of my writing are nagging me.  I’m losing interest in the blog format, though I don’t have anything in mind to take its place, and I fear if I don’t keep at it, I won’t continue to practice.  There’s just no clear path in front of me now  — no sense of direction, like whether I should go this way or that —  I’m just floating in air like that snow floating by my window.

And where did this snow come from?  It wasn’t suppose to show up until this afternoon.  But here I sit, trance-like before its beauty, while the urgency of earlier ‘whether’ questions melt away to be replaced by new ones.

I wonder whether this snow is our morning rain forecast in disguise — and if so, whether this means that our afternoon snow is still on its way?

Oh, what does it matter.  Either way, I’m staying put. Questions will melt into answers in their own good time.  And with chores done and no meals to prepare for ‘Honey’, I’m going to have a good time too.  I’m going to watch a beautiful snow fall today.  And as I get comfy in my favorite chair, perhaps I’ll think a little about life.

Hold the Side Effects

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Once, not that long ago, the mere thought of doing something was as good as doing it.

But today I’ve trading thinking for doing – and I know I’ve hit the mother-lode in avoidance when the kitchen and cooking become a refuge.

All the doing has kept thoughts at bay though, including this one made by a writer-friend of J.D. Salinger, which I ran across in The New Yorker a couple of days ago.  Lillian Ross writes:

“Over the years, Salinger told me about working “long and crazy” hours at his writing and trying to stay away from everything that was written about him.  He didn’t care about reviews,” he said, but “the side effects” bothered him.  “There are no writers anymore,” he said once.  “Only book selling louts and big mouths.”

It’s not the conclusion I find as bothersome as Salinger’s comments about “the side effects.”  But rather than thinking about it, I’m just “working ‘long and crazy’ hours” in the kitchen, filling up my freezer and fridge with meals.

Meat Loaf, Roast Beef, Irish Beef Stew and Swiss Steak — with no side effects.