Friendship

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Will ya looky there?  I can finally see my reflection in the bathroom.  Huzzah! No more dashing for the best light.  Many thanks the hubster, my worker extraordinaire, who did a fine job hanging said mirror and painting this weekend.  We edge closer and closer to a finished bathroom, my friends.  One fine day!

While he painted (the black window – his work!), I canned.  Eight pints garlic dills, six pints spicy dills, seven pints bread-and-butter, two pints pickle relish, four half-pints Hatch chiles, and two quarter-pints jalapeños.  Seeing the jars lined up in the cupboard is highly satisfying.  Being burned by hot vinegar solution is highly painful.  My thumb will recover, however, and I will be ever more careful.

We also spent a lovely day with the Twists, enjoying excellent company, the serenity of country living, grilled steaks, fine whiskey, home grown blueberries, a sky full of stars, and a visit from an owl!  Its profile was reminiscent of a cat atop a tree, and a big one, too.  Very cool.

Here’s hoping you had a lovely weekend and are keeping safe amid all the fires and storms.  Be well!

Transported

Over wrought

Built square

Keeping in, keeping out

Shaded

Medicated

Well read

Wet

Stone

And a new season

Of chutes and ladders

Big butts and bridges

Cold feet and smiles.

The Fork in the road

Fork the man

Fork the condiments.

Are we just rats

With no escape

Conned into luxury

Dreaming of beauty

Dreaming of what might be

Or just looking, playing, spinning silly yarns?

 

 

 

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Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.  It turns what we have into enough, and more.

Melody Beattie

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Eleven years ago, I said goodbye to a friendship I’d had since I was twelve years old.  We met sitting on the wall in front of our junior high, the popular hang out spot before school, the place for strutting, posturing, proving.  She had one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever known and perfectly styled hair.  She was funny, too, using physical gestures and silly sounds to make a point.  We became better friends in ninth grade English and were practically inseparable during high school, meeting up between classes and spending hours on the telephone.  Mostly, we drove and drove, through neighborhoods near and far, back roads and ill used highways, looking, seeing, wondering, and examining all that matters to two young girls: boys, clothes, hair, school, parents, music.  We stole away after long shifts at restaurants, smelling of grease and Italian food, to spend hours up Boulder Canyon or at the Denney’s where we both ate salads and she chewed on ice, me filling her glass with mine.  There was nothing I couldn’t tell her.

I met the hubster because of her.  She was his next door neighbor in the dorms and the reason I went to the hotel kegger where he and I talked and talked that first night.  She met a man shortly before I got married, and they lived together while finishing school.  I never really liked him.  Though he was smart and handsome, he had a very subtle unkindness to him, belittling her in small ways.  Though I never mentioned a word to her about it, it eventually got to her, too.  I felt such relief.  My friend would find someone better, kinder, softer, and I told her as much. I loved her, and she deserved the best.

Probably a year after that, she told me they got back together.  It had been six months. My stomach caught at the thought that she kept it from me for that long, but what I really wanted was her happiness, someone to treat her well.  I wanted her to have what I did (and do), that friend, that complement, that indescribable perfection, a true partner.  That he wanted to be this man for her was wonderful, as long as it was true.

Maybe she didn’t believe me, or maybe it was something else, some other wrong I could not right without the knowledge of it passing.  Our relationship started to change.  We were both busier.  We spoke more and more sporadically and saw each other even less.  She canceled important plans at the last moment or forgot them altogether. Yet I didn’t see it coming, the crisp white envelope, return address with only her first name: a wedding announcement, wishing I could have been there.  The problem was I hadn’t been invited.  I bought a gift and wrote a letter that I never sent, my heart too badly bruised.

Until recently, whenever my mind wandered to a place where she was, I felt this heart shaped regret that I should have remained silent.  Silence, unlike words, is without regret, as the saying goes.  But I’ve come to realize that same silence carries substantially more weight, and is far more burdensome than words ever could be.  It’s a slow acting poison, each obfuscation rendering a micro dose of spirit killer.  Truth is my modus operandi, though I have paid dearly for this authenticity.

Our beautiful friendship ran its course.  I did the best I could.  She did the best she could.  No regrets remain.

Sometimes, as you’ve likely read, I believe that I don’t have enough, that I am not enough.  Time, love, money, friends, clothes, flowers, patience: insert a noun here and wonder how to multiply it.  Thankfully, most times, I realize that I have plenty, more than enough even.  An abundance to share, put out at the curb with a “free” sign, and send out to the rest of the world.  I am rich, if only in my own mind.  That’ all that matters.  This weekend is a perfect example of that.  Three perfect days, almost endless, with fun, food, friendship, laughter, and hard work.

To start, we rose early on Saturday for a splendid outing, caravaning to Hood River for glorious vistas, one cool car (a Ford Cobra), books (I bought two: Dashiell Hammett and Aravind Adiga – hoping they are good), sunshine (I wore sunglasses and actually felt hot for a moment!), the best company (Lori, Bert, and Beanie), and, of course, super yummy food (thanks to Lori’s family – Apple Valley BBQ – plus honey and jam for home).  As if this weren’t enough, we made a stop to wash our dirty car before heading across town to Old Town Pizza.  We sat in chairs worthy of napping, sipped beer, an Arnold Palmer, and ate a rather fine pizza pie (most of it, anyway).

Sunday we celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary.  Huzzah!  (The photo is actually from a couple weekends ago.)  A blur of not much, we ate leftover pizza for breakfast.  We went for a walk.  I baked bread (as a delivery vehicle for the honey and jam purchased Saturday) and hot dog buns and must admit they look rather, ahem, phallic before putting in the oven.  They were yummy, despite the imagery, though not as soft as Franz.  We watched a movie (Jack Goes Boating – very good) and ate a bowl of popcorn.

Yesterday called for a fancy looking breakfast, which I made (recipe below).  It was also dry enough to mow the very long lawn, so the hubster was in charge of that.  I dead-headed the iris, pruned the glory bower, weeded (we have some very healthy clover), moved a few plants in the garden, and planted two agastache (hyssop) for the pollinators.  This was followed by a long bath to clean my farmer feet and hands, another hot dog, the finishing of a book (That Old Cape Magic – just okay), the baking of a batch of cherry walnut brownies, and an early bed time.  Plenty, all of it good.

Saucy Breakfast Sandwich

equal amounts butter and white flour (rice or wheat)

milk (I used rice)

grated cheese (I used a jalapeno gouda.  Any soft cheese that you like will do.)

salt

pepper

cayenne pepper

Sliced bread (I made a variation of this bread {1/2 whole wheat flour, rice milk, no herbs or raisins}, use an English muffin if you like), lightly toasted

egg, prepared any style to go on top (I made ours my favorite way)

bacon, sausage,  sautéed mushrooms (or see ideas below)

This can be adapted  to serve as many people as you like and the reason I’m not specific with the ingredients.  Since there were only two of us, I used 1 tablespoon each butter and flour.  Melt the butter over medium heat, whisk in the flour.  Allow this mixture to cook for a minute before slowly whisking in the milk.  I used about 2/3 – 1 cup.  It thickened, but was still a little runny.  Sprinkle in the grated cheese (I used about 1/3 cup), and stir until it is smooth.  Taste it, and add as much salt, pepper, and cayenne as it needs.  Cover and keep warm (very low heat, if any) while you cook your eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, whatever you like.  Place a slice of toasted bread on a plate, pile on the goodness, and pour the sauce over the top.  The sauce was enough for three sandwiches, with very generous portions.  Look at that pool!

Some ideas:

Mexican:  jalapeno jack, sliced avocado, roasted peppers (jalapeño, bell, poblano),  pinto or black beans.

Italian: fontina, tomato, fresh oregano, red pepper flakes

Spanish: Petit Basque, roasted tomato and red pepper, smoked paprika instead of cayenne, a splash of sherry in the sauce

French: gruyere, finely chopped fresh rosemary, thyme, tarragon, a splash of white wine in the sauce

Enjoy!

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