Ramona Update - Independence Day

Here's a very important collage I made about Ramona's reaction to fireworks.

 

 

Puppy can't be bothered.

Making a Kumquat Pie

Making a Candied Kumquat Tart Pie is not so bad.

If you have three hours to kill.

First Row: 1) Wash kumquats 2) Slice kumquats 3) Be sure to get all the seeds 4) Boil kumquats in sugar water 5) Dry 

Second Row: 1) Roast hazelnuts 1-2) Forget to document boring parts of making dough 2) Throw hazelnut dough on pastry mat 3) Knead 4) Push into pie pan (instead of tart pan recipe calls for) 5) Bake crust weighted with rice on foil (but burn it anyway)

Third Row: 1) Semi-sweet chocolate chips go in bowl 1-2) Do not document heating of cream and pouring of cream 2) Stir together decadent ingredients to make filling 3) Fill tart shell / crust 4) Start arranging kumquats 5) Think about how much your pie doesn't look like the photo from the blog.

Recipe can be found here.

Bored sous chef not included for all chefs

Review: Not dentist approved aka immediate toothache, but excited to know how to candy fruit.

Saturday Morning, Pondering the Big Questions

Read this.

Words to live by: You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.

Real

love

moves

freely

in

both

directions. 

(Just something I've been ruminating on a lot as I've started again doing this thing called "dating.")

Dog is Co-pilot

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about my dog, Ramona.

That's where I have disappeared off to, this world of dog ownership and the swiftest growing of my heart, expanding with love that increases every day.

I have bonded with other dogs before, notably my parent's newish dog Bea and even more significantly the resident dog on the farm I worked at in 2006, Loki.

Loki

I'll never forget the day that the lunch bell rang and I lingered in the harvest shed with Loki. Normally, the sound of the lunch bell felt so overdue after a morning in the fields that it was all I - and the other workers - could do to not sprint towards the house. Go slowly, look less desperately hungry, I'd tell myself.

This particular morning, I found myself alone in the harvest shed with Loki by my side. Like Ramona, Loki was a dog that was always underfoot, and like Ramona, I often tripped over him, so surprised I was to find him by my side.

That day, I found myself compelled to plop down on the ground and begin to pet him from forehead to tail. I remember gazing into his eyes and thinking to myself, "I am going to try something. I am going to manifest the biggest orb of love I can and try to transmit it from my hand into Loki."

So I sat there in the shed for a good ten minutes, just petting him over & over, with each pet thinking to myself I love you so much, Loki, I love you so much. Finally the lunch bell rang a second time, with more urgency, and I picked myself up and headed to the house.

Interestingly enough, Loki was not at lunch that day, doing his normal graze between chairs for fallen food. I noticed this but didn't think much of it until hours later when I was back in the field.

I was crawling on my hands and knees, pulling weeds (oh the joy of organic farming) in a field at the top of the hill, when I had the distinct feeling that someone - or something - was watching me. Imagine my surprise when I looked up, and saw Loki just a foot away from my face. Due to my position, we were eye level. I looked at him, thinking What the heck are you doing, pup? And then he took a half step forward, maintaining eye contact, and licked me square on the nose, turning afterwards to run off into the distance.

I felt certain this was his acknowledgment of the exchange we'd had before lunch. Love passed back to me in the way he knew how.

I recall this story as I think of the deep love I felt for Loki and how it compares to what is growing for Ramona. I think there is a difference in the love you feel for a creature you are responsible for,  rather than just enjoying.

I look at Ramona and I think of my friend who said, "You are both rescued." I think that is true. In no disrespect to my wonderful life, career, community, Ramona truly gave me something outside of myself and my goals to be connected to: a reason to rush home after work, awake at the crack of dawn to get in a walk, abuse Google with my dog care questions, and build relationships with strangers who share this one thing in common with me: a canine companion.

I have seen those bumper stickers that say "Dog is Co-Pilot" and though they always made me chuckle, I never really got them until getting Ramona.

It's funny, because a lot of my twenties were about existing without a solid co-pilot. I remarked to many coupled friends how often I was alone, taking care of my mundane tasks and errands, looking at the passenger seat with a bit of longing and uncertainty. Towards the end of my twenties I began to see the gift in my independence, and actually found myself cherishing the moments after dropping off a friend when my passenger seat was empty again and I got to drive home with by myself. And in this space of less desperate longing for a companion, I found Ramona, and she found me.

The other day, I was transported back to the harvest shed with Loki, when I found myself petting Ramona one evening. She was curled up in her dog bed at the foot of my human bed, and I was lying at the very edge leaning over to stroke her with my right hand.

I looked at my hand, and it was like as if I could see golden rays of love and light and nurturing transmitting from my hand to her body. Or, to articulate it another way, I saw myself.

As I pet Ramona and poured my love into her, I realized I was pouring myself into her. Though all I could see was my hand petting her, we never really see ourselves fully, right? Even a mirror image is skewed. And in this moment, in just my hand, in just the action of loving this animal, I saw myself so clearly.

I feel so lucky to have found her.

What Was, What Will Be

I've always been the reflective type. Thus, honoring have the start of the new year with some heartfelt reflection on the year ending and the year to come has been my go-to New Year's tradition. Setting intentions for myself feels about as natural as taking a breath in, a breath out. It feels good. It feels like the right way to close one chapter and start another.

So, to my surprise, as 2013 came to a close and 2014 jumped to a start - with my 30th birthday just a few days into the New Year - I've felt no such inclination to step aside and dream of what's next.

Not that I'm not dreaming...

Perhaps starting a new decade requires more concentration or focus. Perhaps reflecting on the year past has felt a bit surprising and so I've wanted to linger there longer. Or, simply put, I have been living into my intentions and felt less bound to the actual ritual of stating them.

When I think about this past year I recognize that I put up a lot of walls - a sort of fortress around myself - to quite literally protect myself. 2012 had a lot of heartache and I went into 2013 a little weathered and exhausted. In my bubble - created through fear, heartbreak, disappointment, and needs I couldn't yet articulate - I ended up digging deeper into self-care and discovered someone I rather like: me.  It was a year of looking back to name the hurt and looking forward to say how it could be different. It was about self-love and forgiveness, which includes loving the bits that will always be broken. It was also a year that ended with serious career transition that put me face-to-face with my walls, fears, BS, excuses AND power, humor, sensitivity, competency, and passion.

It was a year about quoting from Dear Sugar; cooking adventurous and epic meals in my new kitchen; expressing love and accepting rejection; acting courageously in my career; finding support in surprising places; being less surprised when things don't always work out the way you expected but they still work; speaking my own truth; laughing through tears and crying through uncontrollable laughter at therapy; and driving home more times than I can count filled with overflowing gratitude for my community of wise, loving, wonderful people.

All that being the case, I know 2014 has to be about kicking down some of those self-protection walls. It can't all be about self-work: eventually you have to try out your tools in the field instead of just sharpening them over and over again in the shop. This year I looked within and came out on the other side liking who I am, scars freckles and all. This year I aim to be open to new experiences, new people, new challenges, and the possibility of new hurt, if it means new growth.

Seemed like a dog was a good way to start.

Hello, Ramona. 

thankful

I'm thankful for pumpkin muffins about to go into the oven

And the smell as they are cooking.

When I think over 2013, I chuckle to myself as I ponder whether or not to just post a link to "How to Survive your Saturn Returns." The universe was up to something this year, and I felt it in ways large and small.

But as I stand here - disheveled hair, flour splatters on my (stupidly) all black PJs, the smell of pumpkin wafting through the kitchen  - I know I have much - so much - to sing praises for.

As 2013 was distinguished by transitions and some annoying necessary introspection, here are some related 2013 gratitudes:

 -I am grateful for the many mentors that arrived on my doorstep this year - some expected, some surprising.

-I am grateful for the multiple circles of women I am blessed to be a part of, as well as those women I can sit across a table from, face-to-face, and speak truth, hear truth.

-I am grateful for where I was one year ago - literally and symbolically.

-I am grateful for how far I've come from that place - literally and symbolically.

-I am grateful for a full year in my beautiful kitchen and the many cooking adventures we've had.

-I am grateful for my house, and have found myself sending it more love this year.

-I am grateful for the ability to say when something isn't working, and the ability to make changes that are not easy.

-I am grateful for my former coworkers who said "congrats" before they said "how could you abandon us?"

-I am grateful for remembering that the world around me is more nuanced and strange than I was giving credit...

-...and in taking notice, feeling very small but very empowered in my specific place in it all.

Ready.

Chard Soup - Pretty & Tasty

For me, this is a very happy sight.

I wish you could smell it. This is the start of one of my favorite soup recipes.