Tag Archives: Friends

Cranberry Orange Tea Bread

30 Saturday Jan 2010

Posted by in In the Kitchen

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Texas oranges and fresh cranberries and a cold winter’s day…

…all the inspiration I need for baking Cranberry Orange Tea Bread.  The mix of the sweet and tart on my tongue makes for a wonderful afternoon splurge with a cup of hot tea.  Wish I had company…

I once dreamed dreams of friends I would have when I moved back from Texas.  I imagined at least one good girlfriend in the neighborhood, maybe two doors down.  Most imaginary days, she’d drop by my house or the other way around — and we’d share lives over a cup of coffee or tea, with perhaps biscotti or tea bread to stoke our conversation.

But here I sit with three dogs.  And though the company is grand, my three friends aren’t the ones I envisioned having on my return to Soonerville.  Yet I have consolations, since I’ve made unexpected friends with my blog while hanging on to long cherished Texas friends and —  though neither live two doors down —  both the new and old do enrich my life.

My friend Ann lives two big dots down from me — the first dot is Dallas and the second is Houston and from there, it’s an hour to Ann.   As this tea bread of Ann’s was baking on Thursday, I sat down to write, with hope of putting into words what it was about Ann that made her such a good friend.  And with no intention to do so, I may have stumbled upon a pretty good recipe for friendship.

My friend’s a good listener.  And when she’s not listening, she tells a fine story.   I’ve kept every note or email she has ever sent me and sometimes I go back and read them just because.   She has a knack for expressing life with words — her words find my heart and even if they weren’t addressed to me, they would find my heart anyway.  She keeps life real, even when the real is pretty ugly.  She  inspires me to be more than I ever thought myself capable of.  She encourages but doesn’t push — she gives room to breathe, she let’s me say ‘no’, without trying to convince me of saying ‘yes.’   Distance nor time separate our friendship; months go by between visits, yet we easily pick up the threads that bind our lives in spite of skipping a few stitches.

My friend Ann is a gracious host.  I’ve never been to her house without her offering a cup of hot tea and a seat on her couch.  One time she served this tea bread, though I no longer recall the circumstances.  But I know when I asked about her recipe, she shared it with me and gave her daughter Vicky the credit.  And as I reflect upon it, that’s Ann to a “T” — she possesses such a strong sense of self that she has no need to borrow or pretend to own what is not rightly hers.  She is who she is, a broken cup full of  integrity that pours out love and truth.

Sometimes I dream of introducing one of my blog friends to Ann; these women live in each others Texas back yards, they are both sixty-something, both write beautiful words and both are long-time subscribers to The New Yorker magazine.  And as if that weren’t  enough to cement a friendship, they both like Dairy Bar…. a nice spot for breaking bread — to borrow an Ann-ism — even without a cup of tea.

It’s tricky to make introductions, sitting 2 dots and two clicks of a mouse away.  But maybe someday, I’ll click together the heels of a pair of ruby slippers, close my eyes and wake up to find myself sitting between these two friends in a booth at the Bar.  But while I’m dreaming of how best to connect two dots and two clicks, feel free to share this bread…. and your life with a special friend of yours.

From my life to yours…just a few clicks across the internet away.

Cranberry Orange Bread

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cup sugar
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsps baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 Tbsp shortening
1 Tbsp grated orange peel
7/8 cup of orange juice
1 egg, well beaten
1 1/2 cups coarsely chopped cranberries
1/2 cup chopped nuts (I prefer walnuts)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a large bowl, mix together dry ingredients.  Cut in shortening with pastry blender and then add juice, peel and egg.  Mix until well blended.  Sir in cranberries and nuts.  Turn ino a greased 9×5 loaf pan.  Bake 50 to 55 minutes, until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

Cool on rack for 15 minutes, then remove from pan.

Saving the Best for Last

17 Thursday Dec 2009

Posted by in Far Away Places, Life at Home

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Our entire stay has been wonderful.  But yesterday turned out to be the best day of all.

Not because the weather cleared up though we did swap fog for rain and kept the gray skies.

Nor was yesterday better because my meals were more special than others  we’ve enjoyed; good food abounds in Brazosport.

Yesterday was the best simply because I got to visit with friends.  I walked with one, sat with another over tea and visited with the remaining two over lunch.  The conversations were as different as the women involved, and I couldn’t even begin to describe them or their importance to my everyday life.  So I won’t.  Let’s just say that these girlfriends of mine are as real as they come.

That they should rearrange their days to fit in that rare visit from an old friend made me feel special and loved.  And in a nutshell, that is how the best of everyday life should be.

Fair weather comes and goes, the energy from meals is soon consumed but in the space of a few hours, the visits from with these four dear friends will last me for a good long while.

And though I wish I had more time to visit, with old friends and new, time has run out.  It’s time to fly home.

“.. go, go, go said the bird: human kind Cannot bear very much reality.”

Angel Wings

13 Sunday Dec 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Soul Care

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There is a metaphor for life hidden in today’s fog smudged horizon of sea and sky.

Truth is, we often don’t know where out next step or thought will take us.  The fog opens only as we step or think our way into it.  We may make plans toward a certain horizon, yet lay them aside for something else that comes along.  One step leads to another until many steps down the road, we have become the people our steps and thoughts have made us.

All the people, places and experiences I have known have,  in some imperceptible way, shaped me into the person I am today.  Had I not known them, I would be different.  Most were small differences.  But at times, I was pointed toward changes that opened up life toward fresh horizons.

And yet, those life opening events did not appear important at the time.  I recall one change that came by one who was not much more than a friendly acquaintance.  Our husbands were friends and she and I were along for the ride.  Who can say why Paula took such an interest in my failure to land that elusive first accounting job?  But she did.

Paula held no important position in the community.  Nor did Paula hold an influential position at the bank where she worked.  So when Paula told me she was going to put in a good word on my behalf, with the public accounting firm that served as the bank’s independent auditor, I didn’t believe anything would come of it.

But I’m glad she didn’t see it that way.  The discouraging fog that often hems us in from helping others was just not in Paula’s line of vision.  This small hourly worker, who later became a waitress, went up to the firm’s hiring partner and landed me an invitation to interview.  All I had to do was call and schedule a time.

I placed the call with memory of many rejections still fresh in my mind, only to learn from the receptionist that the firm wasn’t hiring.  Had Paula not followed up, I would never have shared the bad news.  But rather than letting the matter drop, Paula decided to hold the accounting firm accountable for its seemingly wishy-washy actions.  Of course, the audit partner didn’t know the receptionist was screening job candidates on her own.

After the fog cleared, I had my first accounting job, a gift from this girl who refused to give up on me when I had given up on myself.  And while I know I thanked her, she can’t know what her one intervening action did for my life because I didn’t know to tell her.  It was only much later that I realized what she had done, and by then, our paths had already parted.

There are many fog lifting experiences like this in my life.  And I imagine we  all have experienced them, if we but take the time to remember them.   We are beneficiaries of people who take an unexplained interest in us.

These life-givers are the George Bailey’s in our everyday lives that teach us it’s a wonderful life indeed.  Of course the fog keeps them from seeing their own greatness.  But I’d like to think that, just like George Bailey, they get that occasional glimpse through an angelic message of glad tidings.

Dear George,

Remember no man is a failure who has friends.

Thanks for the wings!

Love, Clarence