Better than Christmas

Yes, it certainly can.  And today, it did!  Today was a good day.  Better than Christmas or my birthday because what happened today was totally unexpected.

First off, the day started out pretty fantastic all on its own.  The weather was delightful with just enough breeze to keep the sun from becoming annoying.  And it's Friday, which doesn't really mean anything to the unemployed since every day is pretty much like every other day to us.  But I know that it means something to the rest of the world.

I was excited because I knew just what I was going to make for dinner (if you want details on that, go to the Cooking Curmudgeon).  I had been out and about picking up a few ingredients and as I pulled into the lane, I stopped at the mailbox.  Inside was a large, padded, yellow envelope with an object just exactly the size and shape of a book.  And the name on the label?  Was mine!

I'm pretty used to getting envelopes like this one as I can't seem to stop ordering things from amazon.com.  But then, who can?  The deals on books and Cd's are amazing.  But the thing about this envelope was..... I wasn't expecting anything.  I already had everything I'd ordered.  The return address was a bookseller in New York.

Curiouser and curiouser......

I took the envelope inside and spent a few minutes doing what my husband usually does with mail when he doesn't know what it is.  I turned it around and over.  I held it up.  I examined the return label.  I sat and pondered.  I said out loud, "I wonder what this is?' 

And then, I opened it.

Inside was the book you see pictured above.  How odd!  I first read this book when I was living in Haiti, way back before I got married.  I found it tucked away and dusty in a stack of junk at the house where I was staying.  I read it out of boredom.  The book was delightful!  It's an hilariously witty account of an immigrant from Georgia (part of Russia, at the time) who arrives in America after 27 days at sea with nothing but the karakul hat on his head.  Which he is immediately swindled out of.  The book is so entertaining and fun to read, the author so honest and funny in the telling of his story, it's like sitting on the edge of a pier at the end of a hot summer's day and dangling your feet in the water while you lick an ice cream cone and watch the sun set over the lake.  THAT's how good this book is!

So anyway, the book wasn't mine and I had to leave it in Haiti.  But after coming home I searched for a copy.  This was a bit challenging since it was out of print and there was no such thing as the internet.  I eventually found and purchased a copy and, after I read it, shared it with a friend of mine.  We aren't sure what happened after that.  She may have returned it, she may not have.  Neither of us remembers.  But the point is, the book has gone missing.

So when I opened this package and saw this book, it sent a tingle shooting right up my spine!  How extraordinary!  Where did it come from and how in the world did it end up here?  Enclosed with the book was a folded purchase order thanking my friend, Robin (*****), for her order.

How cool is that?  How lucky am I to have such a friend?  One friend like that is worth 1,000 ordinary friends!  I heated up my Lean Cuisine pizza, poured myself a glass of wine, gathered up my "new" book and sat outside on the patio eating and reading.  Two of my favorite things!

What a great day!

The Swinging Mailbox...........

When I started this blog, I made a promise that I would not blog about my children.  This blog is about my own life and my personal journey through middle age and even though my children are a very large and important part of my life, their lives are their own.  (Besides, they made it clear that they did not want to become the objects of my posts.)  But I don't think I can be expected to keep my entire family out of my blogging because then, I would be left with almost nothing interesting to blog about.

Case in point, the photograph above is a photograph of my dad's new mailbox.  While I have been busy battling the sock monster over the past decade, my dad has been engaged in numerous bitter battles of his own.  Many of these battles are with the forces of nature.  He has waged war on the ants that invade his kitchen each year, the squirrels that build their homes inside his, and the rabbits that feast in his gardens.  Recently he's been engaged in battle with the forces that seem intent on destroying each and every mailbox he installs.

Dad lives just outside the city limits on five acres that he affectionately (and somewhat comically) calls "The Farm."  Although he hasn't put a lot of energy into maintaining the house (well, aside from installing a corn burner for heat and devising an organizational system that allows him to type an item description into the computer, such as "old phone books", and immediately be given information that will direct him to the exact room and box number containing said item) he has spent a LOT of time and energy maintaining his outdoor property.  He has transplanted weeds from the back field into his front yard and laid down old carpet between the rows to prohibit the growth of "unwanted" weeds.  He's designed and built all kinds of small and large gardens which grow scattered all over the property.

 He even dug a swamp in the back field using nothing more than a shovel and his own man-power.  (This was supposed to be a pond, but after a couple of years of hard work, he decided to call it a swamp so he could be done!)

Most of these outdoor projects he enjoys.  So it has been a great annoyance to him to have to interrupt these projects to install yet another mailbox.  The events that destroyed his previous mailboxes vary.  Sometimes, a snowplow has knocked the post over while engaged in the task of snow removal.  Other times, it has been a carload of "hoodlums" that get their jollies by knocking off mailboxes with baseball bats. 

After the last mailbox was destroyed, Dad spent a couple of days designing a mailbox in his head that would withstand all kinds of vicious abuse.  He scouted around the property for materials and found everything he needed just laying around in junk piles, waiting to be put to some glorious use; heavy linked chains, railroad ties, telephone pole, heavy sheets of metal. 

Once again, using nothing more than his own manpower and an old pick-up truck, he built and installed his new mailbox.  It looks like this

He's managed to move the post far enough away from the road that it should never again be flattened by a passing snowplow, while still allowing the mailbox to be close enough for the mailman to fill it without having to descend from the mail truck.  Pretty ingenious.  I'm thinking this mailbox will last for a long time!

One woman's battle with the sock-eating monster.....

Since the beginning of the 20th century, when the first in-home washing machines were being invented, something has been eating socks.  Although socks are made in pairs, this mysterious sock-eating monster only has appetite for one of a kind.  It never eats both socks.  Over time, this leaves the washer-person with a pile of pairless singles.  I know I am not the first person to notice this as I have read many articles and heard many people mention this phenomenon.  The problem got so bad in our home, that about a decade ago, my husband announced that he was taking over the washing of his own laundry.  He was convinced that the missing sock problem was directly related to a flaw in my laundering technique.

This problem has plagued me for years and over time, I began a practice of saving the un-matched sock in a plastic sack along with other un-matched socks.  Then, once every couple of months, I would dump the sack out and look for matches.  Every now and then, I'd manage to match up one or two pairs but never more than that.  After a long length of time had passed, I would eventually dispose of the sack and start the whole procedure over.  But I was always baffled by the idea that somewhere in my house, there should be an equal-sized pile of missing socks.  Where in the world were these socks going?  SERIOUSLY!  Where?  WHERE??!!  I could understand if one or two remained missing...... but a couple of pounds worth?  They would be taking up some serious space somewhere and search as I might, I could never find them.

Three months ago, I bought a package of six pairs of socks and I determined, most definitely, that these socks would never lose their partners.  I have been diligent!  Before throwing them down the laundry chute, I fold them together.  I take them apart as I put them in the washing machine.  I remove them to the dryer with the utmost care.  And once the dryer shuts off, I immediately carry them to the bedroom and match and fold them.

Occasionally, it has happened that one goes missing.  When this happens, all other household life grinds to a halt while I search for the missing sock.  I look in the interior corners of both the washing machine and the dryer.  I retrace my steps from the laundry room, searching the floor for the escapee.  I pick up and shake each article of clothing that was in the dryer, looking at the front and back in case a sock is clinging there.  And I have always been successful in finding the little rascal.  Until last month.

A black sock went missing and I went high order looking for it!  I spent two hours searching the basement and the bedroom.  When none of my regular procedures produced the missing sock, I started in with drastic, ridiculous measures.  I moved my bed away from the wall, in case the sock had tumbled there when I threw my laundry pile on the bed.  I retraced my steps from the basement looking under furniture in case it had managed to drop and roll.  I pulled the washer and dryer out from the wall thinking maybe it had jumped loose when I was removing the laundry from the washing machine and putting it in the dryer.  I even looked down the walls of the laundry chute, thinking maybe it was clinging to the wall there in spite of the fact that I had a clear memory of unfolding the pair when placing them in the washing machine.

I eventually had to give up.  The sock was nowhere to be found.  I now had proven to myself that there was indeed some sort of supernatural, unexplainable phenomenon going on related to socks and laundry and I left the newly single sock laying on my dresser as a reminder.

This morning, I decided to wear a sweater as there is a bit of a chill in the air.  As I was pulling my purple sweater jacket on, my hand hit an obstruction half-way through the right sleeve.  Baffled, I removed my hand and looked inside.  Guess what I found all scrunched up and hiding INSIDE the arm of my sweater?  Finally reunited, the pair of them is on my feet as I sit and type this post.

Bucket List

I didn't mean to let so much time pass by without posting.  I've been writing things in my head, and sometimes even speaking them out loud (especially while I'm driving), but haven't really felt motivated to sit in front of the computer and type them out.

Eddy and I went out last weekend with some friends.  Sitting outside around their fire pit, the night sky stretching wide above us, each cradling a mug of coffee, and having our moods mellowed somewhat by a glass or two of wine, our conversation turned towards middle age, growing old, and eventually, dying......

My friend asked each of us what was on our "bucket list."  I haven't gotten around to writing my bucket list (although I do have a list of things to do before turning 50) but I have some hopes and dreams knocking around in my head.  I'd like to make a positive difference in a lot of lives.  I know that sounds altruistic, but it isn't really because besides helping me sleep well at night, it's one way I feel I can go on existing after my body gives out.  And I'd like to do some self-centered things, like start my own business and be a participant in a really great small vocal ensemble.

But what I'd most like to do is to go on a trek to some of the most ancient and spiritually significant spots around the globe on a sort of spiritual journey of my own.  I'd like to spend a couple of months where my only focus is inward and I'm completely free of any sense of responsibility.  I sometimes feel a sense of desperation to get started on this journey before it's too late.  But then, I tell myself, other people have gotten it all figured out and they didn't have to take a vacation from regular life to do it.

Maybe my life is just too cluttered with "junk" (both literally and figuratively) to be able to mentally relax into that meditative state where God can find me?  (Or rather, where I can find God)

In the meantime, I've developed a talent for enjoying life's great and small pleasures while ignoring the critical concerns.  If you follow my "what I'm currently reading" tag, then you are aware that I've been reading Puccini's Ghosts for over a week now.  Usually, I tear through a book in a day or two and it isn't that this book isn't good.  It's just that I keep getting blindsided by sentences that make me close the book and think for a while.  Like this one, "Moderate sensual pleasures can, with practice, assuage intangible miseries."  I like this quote and have certainly found it to be true in my own life (although the effect is only temporary).  In fact, I have become so good at assuaging my "intangible miseries" with moderate sensual pleasures (such as food, or a soak in a hot tub) that I'm always caught off-guard when they manage to assert themselves back into my consciousness.

More often than not, I feel as if I'm wasting my life away with the business of ignoring the critical concerns and I sometimes wish I could donate my future to someone who would do something useful with it!

A picture perfect day.......

If I were going to special order a day for myself, I'd start by waking up in my own bed after a good night's sleep.  The day would be filled with sunshine and bursting with spring.  The morning would be carefree, and I'd treat myself to a walk outdoors and let nature entertain me.

Then I would head downtown and have lunch at my favorite place with one of my favorite friends.

I'd have a hard time deciding what to order since everything on the menu is delicious.  But I'd probably end up with combination stir-fried rice noodles.

or maybe, I'd have pork fresh noodle soup........

After lunch, I'd wander around downtown and enjoy the sights and sounds of spring in the Fort.

I'd definitely want to visit the beautiful downtown Cathedral.  It's a stunning and awe-inspiring structure sitting on Calhoun St. in the heart of downtown Fort Wayne.

 

Then, I would climb the hill at the reservoir and see what the city looks like from up there.

Before going home, I'd treat myself to a Fort Wayne tradition.

Once I arrived home, I'd eat supper, take a hot bath, and snuggle down in bed to watch House and 24 (because, of course, it would be Monday night).

Wow!!! What do you know?  I just described the fabulous day I had yesterday!

There's no place like home!

Wow!  I can hardly believe that last week at this time I was in the kitchen with Grigoris helping him make Easter dinner.  It's taken several days, but I think I'm just about all caught up on my sleep!

I love to travel.  I love seeing new places and tasting new foods.  I love making new friends in foreign countries and experiencing the smells and atmosphere of a different world.  I love hearing the old stories and history associated with distant places.  And then...... I love coming home!  Sleeping in my own bed, taking a long hot bath, cooking in my own kitchen, seeing my kids and my husband.  I love how happy my dog is to see me and I even love watching my cat as he tries to punish me for being gone.  I love settling back into my old routine.  I've been home five days and I've already tried several new recipes. 

The first was a meal I made with Bacalao, a Greek salt cod, that I managed to bring back from Greece. I tried to follow a recipe described to me by Matta. The cod was torn into bite-sized pieces, dipped in batter, and fried in olive oil. I served it with two sauces: skordalia (a garlicky potato sauce, but I made mine with sweet potatoes) and a spinach oregano pesto.

The second meal I made last night.  It was an Indian spiced salmon poached in olive oil and I served it with an eggplant and spinach coconut curry with basmati rice.  The salmon was very good but I don't think I'll make it again as it was so expensive (and wasteful) to make!  The salmon was poached in olive oil, so I needed a lot of olive oil, which was then thrown out as it had acquired a fishy taste and couldn't be used for anything else.

The weather has been a bit cloudy and cool since I've been home but there have been a few nice days.  Spring is bursting out all over!  I love to see the colorful buds sprouting on the trees and I'm always disappointed that they turn green so quickly!

So here's something I've been thinking about.  I was so exhausted the first night I curled up to sleep in my own bed.  I had been up for over 24 hours and was beyond tired.  As I sank into bed, it felt soooo sweet and I realized that what made it feel so good was how tired I was.  Before sleep claimed me completely, I started thinking about other physical pleasures: how wonderful a dip in a cool body of water feels when you're melting from the heat, how sweet a glass of cold water tastes when your throat is parched with thirst, how deliciously fulfilling a good meal is when you're weak with hunger, how amazing it feels to finally be able to lay your head down when you are beyond exhausted.  And what I realized is that the more you have suffered, the more delicious the pleasure of relieving the suffering.  This thought has hit me before, so it wasn't like an epiphany or anything but I'm just wondering if you've ever noticed that before we can really enjoy something, we have to suffer a little bit first.  And it seems that enjoyment is directly proportional to the suffering that preceded it.  The more intense the suffering, the greater the feeling of pleasure when it is relieved.  Would we know how wondrously delicious a cold glass of water can be if we hadn't first known what it feels like to be parched with thirst?  Would we appreciate the sweet relief of a soft bed if we hadn't first been achy with fatigue?  I had a friend who used to say he loved hitting himself on the head with a rock because it felt so good when he quit.  I finally think I know what he meant.  When I think about it this way, I'm tempted to say, "bring on the suffering" just so I can know the sweet pleasure of relieving it!!!!!

No soup for me!!!!

Well, it had to happen.  I finally put something in my mouth that I did not enjoy (and I'm being polite here not to offend my hostess!)  Lamb offal soup.  A soup made from the "waste material" (dictionary definition, not my own description) of a butchered animal.  This is a traditional meal enjoyed by Greeks after attending a midnight church service on Easter morning.  Matta said that it is my tradition that prevents me from loving this soup since I wasn't raised on it.  But I beg to differ.  I am an adventurous eater, as I've mentioned before, and I enjoy trying new things.  Many of which I like!  For example, I've had ragout in Haiti; a stew made out of pig's feet or cow's hoofs.  I've eaten and enjoyed griot that included fried pig skin with the under layer of fat attached as well some of the coarse hairs.  I've sucked on an entire goat head.  I've had a chicken curry in India that was made from the leathery claws of a chicken and a dish made out of fried mutton brains.  I've eaten all manner of odd looking roots dug out of the ground prepared in a wide variety of ways.  I've tasted snake and allegator.  And as recently as two days ago, I tried sea urchin eggs.  And I've enjoyed all these things!  So I must politely disagree with Matta's opinion on this one.  She also told me that a true cook and lover of food would enjoy EVERYTHING that was edible.  I asked her how she feels about insects, and that shut her up for a while.

Anyway..... the tables around me were filled with people smacking their lips and groaning in pleasure over their lamb offal soup so I'm sure that I'm in the minority here.  But I feel quite secure in saying that I will most likely die without ever eating another bowl of the stuff!  (Come to think of it, that makes two things I've put in my mouth and not enjoyed on this trip, the first being Turkish coffee)

So, my day yesterday.....  The early part was spent relaxing.  Matta and I took the tram down to the sea and walked around the beach.  We passed by a small group of men who were enjoying small grilled fish fresh caught from the sea.  When I stopped to admire, they offered us each a fish.  The small whole fish were simply seasoned with sea water, deliciously crispy on the outside and succulently tasty on the inside.  A delightfully unexpected experience!

After returning home, I read my book until I fell asleep and ended up taking a two hour nap.  This was mostly by design as our plan was to attend a midnight service and by nature, I have a difficult time staying awake past 8:00. 

Grigoris showed up around 11:00 and we left to pick up Olga around 11:30.  We drove up the mountain (more accurately, a large hill) to attend service at a beautiful old church.  There were already hundreds of people there when we arrived.  We purchased our candles and went to stand with the others outside the church doors.  From inside the church, we heard the priest chanting and leading the worshipers in some sort of remembrance ceremony.  Around midnight, he appeared at the church entrance with a "light" that he began passing around from candle to candle.  Matta tells me that this flame is literally flown in on an airplane from Jerusalem every year and delivered to all the churches, one by one, in countryside and city.

It was awe-some to watch as this flame was passed from candle to candle and to participate in something so symbolic.  From where we were standing in the church courtyard, we had an aeriel view of all of Athens.  The Parthenon sat illuminated on a hilltop in the near distance.  Around midnight, all the churches in Athens started sending off fireworks and from the hill top, I saw the whole city of Athens bursting with colorful explosions of light.  It was amazing!

From the church, we headed to the hotel to eat.  It was 3:00 a.m. before my head hit my pillow.  Can you believe it? 

So, today is Easter and Matta and I have just returned from a walk around the neighborhood.  Because everyone was at church until the wee hours of the morning this morning, the regular Easter service does not start until 3:00.  This morning, people are in their courtyards, or the streets, roasting whole lambs on a spit over a charcole fire.  Traditional Greek folk music is jumping through the air and some folks have taken to dancing while they wait for their lamb to finish cooking.

Happy Easter to all my faithful followers!!!!  (all three of you!)  May you enjoy a day of family, food, and remembering of everything that you hold important.

Good Friday

It is traditional for Greek Orthodox to eat nothing but lettuce leaves dipped in vinegar on Good Friday.  The reason for this is so that they can remember the suffering of Christ on the day He was crucified.  My feeling is, hasn't there been enough suffering???  Thank goodness my Greek friends have no problem breaking with tradition!

Matta and her friends, Olga and Grigoris, drove me up into the mountains where we visited an old church surrounded by natural beauty and dripping with ambiance.  The beautiful old church and monastery were built of stone and nestled in among countless varieties of pine trees and wild plants just beginning to open their blooms to spring.  A ceremony was taking place outside around a sort-of alter that was decorated with flowers and draped in a tapestry depicting the grieving mother of Christ weeping over her son's dead body.  A priest led the mourners in a sorrowful chant followed by a procession that snaked up and down the mountain trails.

Afterwards, I piled into the car with the Three Musketeers (close friends who have been sharing the ups and downs of life for over 21 years) and we drove back to town where we had lunch.  We were not the only ones willing to break with the lettuce tradition as the cafe was packed.  But everyone was observing the tradition of not eating meat.  So we feasted on vegetables and seafood.  The most interesting (and tasty) thing that I put in my mouth was described to me as sea urchin eggs.  Not something I would have chosen for myself, but I pride myself on being an adventurous eater so I gave it a try.  It was very good!  It is the orange stuff sitting on the bread slice.

After lunch, we came back to Matta's and I helped Grigoris in the kitchen as he prepared a traditional dish from Northern Greece of goat and dried bread cooked in a broth with mint, dill, and green onions.  It's cooking as I type and the smell is so incredible it's making my toes curl in anticipation!!!  The only thing that bothers me is that it's already after 8:00 p.m. and if I were home, I would have been in bed for an hour by now!  It will probably be sometime after 9:00 before we are ready to eat.  REALLY???

Trouble on the Tram

Here is a picture for my mom, who claims she can look up pictures of scenery on the internet if she wants and would prefer to see pictures of people on my blog.  Do we look happy in the photo?  That's because it had been about 5 hours since disaster struck and we had begun to adjust to our new situation. 

We had plans yesterday to visit the Acropolis.  After a leisurely breakfast of boiled eggs, bread, cheese, coffee, and juice, Matta and I headed out and took the tram downtown.  We disembarked near the stadium and while I was snapping pictures, Matta was rummaging through her backpack.  All of a sudden, I looked up to see a frantic Matta, arms waving as if she were trying to swim through the air, racing towards me.  "They took my wallet!  They took my wallet!"  It seems while we were on the tram, someone had boldly reached in to Matta's backpack and removed her wallet.  This was an amazing feat since she had many wallet-like things in her backpack and they managed to remove the one with her money and credit cards.  In addition, I had been standing right next to Matta the whole time and didn't observe anyone messing around with her backpack.  Never-the-less, Matta lost all her credit cards, 330 euros (which she had just withdrawn to use over the weekend), and her identification card.

If I had been Matta, at that point, I wouldn't have had the heart to go on and spend the day at the Acropolis.  But Matta quickly called her banks to shut down her accounts and then said, "O.K.  Let's go!"  I had no choice but to follow along, disheartenly.

Little by little, as the day rolled by and we became used to the idea that the wallet was gone for good.... I began to enjoy myself.  The Acropolis was an amazing adventure!  The Parthenon sits at the top of the Acropolis (which is a large hill) among many other ancient structures.  The view of the city is breathtaking.  I wish I could find different words to use in my descriptions other than amazing,  incredible, beautiful, breathtaking, etc.... these words are so predictable and overused.  But I'm completely at a loss to express myself creatively.

I was excited to see the Hill of Areopagus.  It was on this rock that the Apostle Paul enlightened the Athenians as to the name of their "Unknown God'.  The rock also has a strong place in Greek mythology as it was here that trials took place to exact punishment on wrong-doers.  Here it was that the Greek god of war was put on trial for killing the son of Poseidon.  And from around the 7th century BC until Roman times, the rock was used for actual trials, mostly of convicted murderers.

I wish I could post pictures, but I've run into a bit of a snag.  Matta's computer does not have a slot that can take my camera card and I didn't travel with my cable.  In addition, Matta's camera is malfunctioning and can not communicate with her camera card so she can only take pictures using her internal memory (which holds only 7 pictures).  But once I get home, I will post all sorts of wonderful and "breathtaking" photos.

After the Acropolis, Matta and I met up with a friend of hers for lunch.  I ate so much food that when it was time for supper, I still had not finished digesting my lunch and I went to bed without eating!  Amazing!

I did borrow Matta's camera yesterday morning to take a picture of her making orange juice. 

Where is Matta?  Well, it is very difficult to capture her as she is a constant blur of energy and movement!