“He doesn’t say what he is thinking, which is that his church is held-breath story listening and late-night-concert ear-ringing rapture and perfect-boss fight-button pressing. That his religion is buried in the silence of freshly fallen snow, in a carefully crafted cocktail, in between the pages of a book somewhere after the beginning but before the ending.” Erin Morgenstern,The Starless Sea
The Starless Sea is one of my favorite books I’ve read this year. I love everything about it. The storyline is intricate and the characters are well-developed. It is full of mystery and surprise, and it doesn’t shy away from darker emotions.
Most of all, though, it resonates with me through little moments like this one. There is almost a holiness to the language, conjuring images and sensations that stir my soul.
I’m having a hard time putting this reflection into words. It’s something like church, though. I am a rarity among my friends in that I do actually attend church, and I find the sacred there. The care and love of a community. The big picture.
One of my favorite aspects of my faith, however, is that the divine isn’t confined to a building or a specific group of people. It’s in a million little things, like wind chimes and cloud formations. Kindness. A really good cup of coffee. A dish of water set out for the birds.
This quote reminds me of moments that make up a whole life.
“I was like a woman at a drawer, putting away her party dresses between tissue paper, and there he stood in the doorway– not Stewart Applebaum, but this feeling– gentlemanly, feral, breathtaking, peaceful, something very close to life itself, asking me for one more dance down in the meadow.” Rebecca Lee, Bobcat and Other Stories
Getting older is strange. It’s equal parts liberating and stifling. It’s a round of “I do what I want” followed immediately by “I’m old enough to know better.” People look at you like you’re the adult in the room, and you are, even though you may reject their definition of what that means and the expectations that go along with it.
Every new change, whether it’s due to aging or sickness or just boredom, comes with packing away or throwing out the things that don’t fit anymore. Sometimes that feels good; sometimes it doesn’t.
Last Sunday, we celebrated a couple of birthdays by going to the goth club we used to frequent. It was my first time going to their new location, and I was nervous about whether I would like it.
I had fun. I missed the chandelier and the multiple bars spaced throughout the club and the second dance room. I had moments of sadness remembering people we used to see there who are no longer with us.
But the music was a great mix of new and old. There was something for everyone, which is one of the big things that drew me to the club back in the day. All the weird things we each bring to the table were welcome. Everyone can play. Just the way the world should be.
It was a good reminder that I’m not ready to pack away all the party dresses. I probably never will be.
As long as I have breath, I will dance through a thousand open doorways and out into the world.
“I have finally concluded, maybe that’s what life is about: there’s a lot of despair, but also the odd moment of beauty, where time is no longer the same. It’s as if those strains of music created a sort of interlude in time, something suspended, an elsewhere that had come to us, an always within never. Yes, that’s it, an always within never.” Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Today’s post may be a little short. I’ve not been feeling well this week. I tried to push through, expecting my default version of taking it easy by going to work a little later and canceling a meeting or evening plans a couple of times would do the trick it usually does/used to do.
But no.
Last night I didn’t sleep a lot because I was up and sick with a fever and various other unpleasant symptoms. I finally admitted to myself around 4:00 that I wouldn’t be able to go in today at all.
I hate it. I’m so tired of being sick. It may be quite a while until I’m back to what I’m used to seeing as normal for me. The despair is so heavy at times that it’s almost a tangible presence.
I’m not much of a bright-sider, but I know that little touches of light and beauty are good tools to guide me out of the dark. Things like kind words from friends, the perfect cup of coffee, my favorite sweatshirt. My faith. My art. Constants that I can always depend on even when it seems like the bad things will never go away.
I’ve gotten a lot of advice on how to take it easy this year. Most of it was wisdom I specifically sought out, whether in reading or asking questions of people who had either gone through what I was going through or at least seemed like they were doing something right.
When I read this quote, it punched me in the gut a little. It was gentle enough for me to be amenable to it but strong enough for me to take notice.
One of my core values is curiosity. I love learning new things. I am fascinated by perspectives and experiences different from my own. I aim to start conversations by being open to explanations and trying to understand rather than by assuming I already know their intentions and have decided they’re the worst.
This practice has served me well. I am more liberal than the average Democrat (Two-party system? More like two sides, same coin) and I live in Texas. I have a lot of…opportunities…to listen to people with whom I disagree. And with many people (not all – some people really are just assholes full of hate), when I listen to them, they let their guard down enough to listen back. And we both learn that we have more goals in common than we thought. They no longer see me as the enemy they imagined me to be.
Changing hearts and minds, one radical conservative at a time.
An echo chamber (wherein you surround yourself only with people who agree with you) is not generally conducive to this practice. My gut reaction to Dr. Walker-Barnes’s advice was immediately no.
Then the curiosity kicked in.
As I read on, I thought about all the places that I carve out in my life where I feel safe. Places where every word isn’t a constant struggle and every nuance doesn’t have to be analyzed and defined. They still challenge me and make me think (because I like that) but they at least give me a soft and loving place to do it.
I see this all over my environment. For example, the picture above was taken in my office at work. I have
Twinkle lights (that need new batteries but still – they’re there)
Pretty bottles and rocks
A nice mix of inspiring nonfiction, fiction, and poetry
Fun stuff for play and art
A visual echo chamber, if you will.
The more I read, the more I wondered what it would be like if at least one of my social media networks was an echo chamber. What if, when I opened the app, I wasn’t immediately bombarded with every snarky, petty dig someone could think to take at people who are doing what I consider to be good in the world? What would that be like?
So I tried it on Instagram. Mass unfollowing. That alone was pretty cathartic.
The days that followed, though? Heavenly. There is so much wonderful going on out there. Did you all know this? I’m a little sad that I missed out on it for so long.
It’s still not all shiny happy news, but it’s very grounding. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone (because in Texas, I often feel very, very alone).
How do you feel about echo chambers? What purpose (if any) do they serve in your life?
“We are all stardust and stories.” Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea
A large portion of my life – and, I think, in all our lives – is wrapped up in story. I read so much because I typically find something in every book that enriches my perspective or reminds me of someone or something important to me. It keeps my mind active and curious.
You don’t have to read to understand the wealth of a well-told story, though. We all wrap our lives in the narratives we share to show who we are and where we’re coming from.
I’ve got some exciting plans this month, including the Celebrate Life 5K, Empty Bowls, Spiderdead, and Dewey’s Readathon. At work, it’s Fall Preview this Saturday and information sessions for student staff selection for next year all month. I’m sure there will be a Halloween party or two somewhere in there as well.
While the calendar looks busy, I don’t want to get lost in an endless sea of tasks. I have blocked out lots of time for stories, and I’m excited about my list.
My September reads felt pretty brutal. For example, one of my book clubs read a book that centered around the events that could lead to nuclear war, and another read a book about a prison fight club that was televised like reality TV. Both of those books were good, but they were also violent and heavy. This month, as I feel like my year has been heavy enough all on its own, thanks, I am going to dive into something cozier, or at least books with a satisfying resolution.
I have a couple of Phryne Fisher ebooks checked out from the library that I want to finish, and I want to start the Poe Baxter series by ACF Bookens. May go for the next book in the Finlay Donovan series. A couple of my book clubs are reading choose-your-own-adventure style with a spooky theme, and many of those selections are cozy in nature (except for The Reformatory – but I’m almost finished with it and it’s good enough to make an exception). And who doesn’t love books about bookshops (rhetorical – the right answer is “nobody”):
This year has been nuts. Even with a truly outstanding medical team and the rich support of friends and family, cancer made sure that I felt more like a pin cushion or an experiment than a person most of the year. -1,000/10. Strongly do not recommend.
Several things have saved me. I’ve never felt like I was in this alone. There has always been at least one person willing and able to accompany me (or drive me) to my appointments, treatments, and procedures. I have received so many gifts. I always suspected that if I had a specific love language, gifts would be it, and I think this year has verified that. I also have been fed and texted and encouraged and cared for in so many other ways. Even people I didn’t expect to think about me at all have come out of the woodwork to give a kind word, donate to GoFundMe, or offer much-needed wisdom.
Another way I’ve made it through is by honoring that I need regular quiet time for rest. Of course, this is true all the time, but it has been especially vital this year. When I chose quiet as my theme word for the year, I knew I had to pursue it intentionally. I figured it would mean that I would need to lay aside a lot of the things I do to keep busy – things that I genuinely enjoy but tend to cause me more stress than other responsibilities and practices. I expected a lot of FOMO.
Instead, I’m happy to report that my feelings on the matter have gone the other way. Apparently, JOMO is also a thing, and I have it. I enjoy seeing people, but when I can’t or when plans get canceled, the disappointment I feel in not getting to do the thing in question is often overshadowed by the absolute delight I experience in escaping several factors that often come along with it – the noise, the crowds, the germs, the commute, the cost, or simply the constant energy expenditure it takes to make sure I am projecting the right socializing/listening/personing face to match what is actually going on in my head.
I didn’t really mean for the year to be this quiet, but I’m also not upset about it. I love quiet so much.
One of my favorite practices that I’ve honed this quiet year is slowing down during my reading time. Part of this practice is practical. My attention span has been sparse(-r than usual) and I get tired more quickly, so slowing down has been necessary to even retain what I read. Another benefit of a slower pace is that it leaves room for jotting down meaningful quotes that stand out to me. These quotes have their own journal, and it’s the most consistent journaling I’ve done in a while.
This month, I want to let you in on a little part of it. I’m going to share a different quote each day that I’ve taken from the books I’ve read this year and write a reflection on it. I can see this becoming a regular thing here, but it’s daily during October.
I’ll catalogue the posts here for reference. Enjoy!
(From Season 7 of Grace and Frankie, episode 14 – “The Paprikash,” as viewed on my teeny tiny netbook)
I love this whole show, but this episode (this scene in particular) is easily one of my top five favorites. Grace calls her brother Jeffrey because she keeps trying to make her mother’s chicken paprikash recipe (which turns out to be her dad’s recipe) and it never quite turned out the way she wanted it to. But what Jeffrey wants to talk about is the dad he never knew because he died when he was four, which is a painful memory Grace would rather not revisit.
But Frankie has an idea.
Frankie: “I think there’s a way for both of you to get what you want. Grace wants the recipe and Jeffrey wants to know about his dad. So every ingredient you give Grace, she’ll give you a detail about your father.”
Grace: “Frankie, that is the most insane idea that you’ve…”
Jeffrey: “One quartered chicken.”
Grace: “He slept in the hospital when you had pneumonia.”
And they went from there, alternating memories of their dad with the food they both remembered from their childhoods.
I ugly-cried so hard.
This is what the food I grew up with and all my favorite dishes I’ve made since mean to me. It’s not just a pleasant taste or smell (although most of them are delicious). It’s inherently linked to the memories I have, sitting around the table or on the couch, in the kitchen or at a suitable distance so as not to irritate the cook.
It’s the soup Mom made when she came to Denton to take care of me when I was too sick to stand for several weeks.
It’s the kind eyes of the farmer at the market who snuck more Crowder peas into my bag while I was trying to pull it together after bursting into tears as I told him how my MeMaw always grew them in her garden.
It’s learning that I do like cherries after all and figuring out how to give recipes my own flair.
It’s being a little dissatisfied with most of the chocolate cake and steak I eat anywhere but the farm because no one makes them like Mom and Dad (respectively).
[Seriously – Mom’s chocolate icing – it’s like ganache and buttercream had a baby that got all their best genes. It’s fudgy and decadent and amazing.]
I may have run out of steam a little here at the end (it’s been a hard month). And there are hundreds more stories to tell, but you get the gist. When I think about what home means to me, there’s always food and drink involved in some way. Every place I’ve ever lived has its own menu with memories embedded firmly within it.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the stories and the food, and I hope you get a chance to eat wonderful things with people you love very soon.
I don’t know if the cheesesteak pizza was a thing at a Pizza Hut near you this summer, but it was quite possibly the very best pizza this particular chain has ever made. Just look at it. When I was young, I often had a choice of having my birthday party at Pizza Hut, My-T-Burger, or the skating rink, and I have to say – if this had been on the menu, it would have been Pizza Hut every year.
I mean, probably not. I was a strict hamburger (NOT sausage) or plain cheese pizza fan back in the day. This would have probably been too outside my preferred palate then. But now? I can’t even get excited about my standard spinach, tomato, and olive on a delicious stuffed crust right now. I’m still in mourning over the cheesesteak.
I try not to get takeout or drive-through meals too often. I feel sluggish and blah when I eat most of the things I can order through a mechanical box or online. I certainly didn’t grow up eating fast food on a regular basis.
But one way I’m different from most of my family and friends is that I live alone. And while cooking for myself is lovely and soothing and decadent, so is occasionally saving myself the trouble. Many people will answer the question, “What’s your favorite meal?” with “One I don’t have to cook,” and I feel that. Sometimes, it just doesn’t make the cut on the daily agenda. Some days, the best thing I can do to take care of my soul is drive through Whataburger for a patty melt (sans the sauce – it’s just too much).
Most of my weekend fare has been warm salads and black bean tacos, and I’ve stayed reasonably hydrated. But Friday after work, even though I had food at home, I made a beeline for one of my favorite takeout spots right off campus. I ordered chicken fried rice and crab rangoon, and I ate it all with a cup of super sweet hot tea (a habit I picked up when I lived with Margat). It was excessive and awesome, and just what I needed.
I don’t know if I have a great point to make, but I do know that no discussion about the place food has in my life and in my home would be complete without at least a brief mention of how much I enjoy – one might even say require – the occasional drive-through. And seriously – that pizza deserves an award.
I hope you’ve had a great weekend, and I wish you a wonderful week ahead.
Tomorrow, our Rise and Shine book club is discussing spooky reads and there’s a Halloween party in the evening. On Sunday, there is a book fair at a local bar and our annual Spiderdead show in the afternoon, and then I have an RLA interest presentation (the last one I’m giving this year!) early that evening. I’m definitely taking Monday and Tuesday off for what will be some much-needed and long-overdue downtime.
Here are five food-related/adjacent ponderings I’ve had this week:
I especially love this time of year because, while I do enjoy some spooky things and darker themes, I mostly just love how much cozier everything is. Cool weather (actual cool weather, not the “it’s no longer in the triple digits must be a cold front ha ha” phenomenon) is on its way in the next 48 hours. I will wrap up in a blanket with a cup of tea and a bowl of popcorn while I settle in to re-watch a soul-soothing show or movie any time of the year, but cool weather means I can do that without cranking up the A/C. Tonight I’m probably going to watch something hygge/homey/foodie from this list. My regulars are Chocolat or Under the Tuscan Sun, but the list reminds me of quite a few I haven’t seen in a while, and also how did I miss A Good Year?
Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree – I think I’ve found the genre I want to write. Cozy fantasy. This one was especially lovely to me because the main character is an Orc who decided to leave the mercenary life to open a coffee shop. I WANT TO LEAVE THE MERCENARY (I mean, Student Affairs, but sometimes it’s basically the same) LIFE TO OPEN A COFFEE SHOP. It’s like The Hobbit, but if Bilbo had just said, “No, thank you, but would you like another spot of tea?” instead of going on the adventure. It taps into my deep-seated desire to have a home that is so cozy and welcoming that I never want to leave and is also a place where I can feed people and watch their faces as they have those little moments of joy that a really good cup of coffee or delicious pastry can bring.
The main thing I like about joining Tertulia is all the discounts I get (and also I enjoy their co-op vibe). Another thing I like is that I get curated lists like this one in my inbox with recommendations to add to my home foodie collection. Alice Feiring’s To Fall in Love, Drink This has been on my TBR for a while. That may be my next Tertulia purchase.
I’m pretty good about keeping my pantry and freezer (and to a lesser extent, my fridge – sometimes some questionable things linger in there) reasonably stocked and cleaned out. When space is limited, it only takes a little swerve in the direction of either sparse or out of control to have me ordering takeout more often than I (and by I, I do mean my budget) would like. But occasionally, I get a wild hair and end up buying way more of one item than I need. Right now, I have so many canned beans in my apartment. I mean, as overages go, shelf-stable ones are my preference, but dang. I guess I’m having beans in just about everything I cook at home for the foreseeable future.
I really could have used a list like this when I was first starting out as a new-ish home cook. There’s lots of great advice and resources linked in here. It also sparked a bit of nostalgia through several moments when I thought, “I remember when I learned that!” It took me so long to figure out that “What are your favorite flavors and textures?” is such an important question for me when it comes to a meal plan that I’ll actually use (rather than one that I feel is a good plan I should want to use – very different things).
My long weekend is so close I can taste it. I hope your weekend is nice!
I imagine most of us have those certain foods we love that would make others recoil in horror. Do yourself a favor – DO NOT google “gross foods” to come up with examples. If you must, satisfy your curiosity with this link but also don’t click on that if you don’t want to see some questionable and possibly revolting things (and I only say “possibly” because I recognize that what I might find revolting others don’t, because that list got a lot of yucks from me).
I mean, you do you, but I’m not eating anything that starts with “jellied” and ends with some animal part.
I will absolutely chow down on some chicharrones (aka, pork rinds), though. When the dining hall across the street from my office made them, I was delighted. They remind me of afternoons at my grandparents’ apartment. Mom stopped by several times a week to visit with her mother, and Granddaddy spent most of the time singing Marty Robbins along with his record player in the back room. And these salty snacks were readily available. One of my earliest memories with this set of grandparents was discovering that Smoky the cat really liked them, too.
Jello salads are also on my list of foods I generally enjoy that others often have on their iffy lists. This is another perk of holidays and potlucks – there’s always at least one of them. My absolute favorite is a lime green one with pineapple and cottage cheese (another food people seem to have very strong opinions about). I don’t even mind that it has pecans in it, but I prefer it without them. *sigh* It’s been so long since I had this treat. I may have to make some before the year is over.
I also really crave hot dogs every once in a while, as long as I don’t think too much about what they’re made of.
Most of the foods I love that others side-eye are ones that are strongly tied to memories of home and comfort, and I suspect that’s the same for most people. If I were to survey the folks in my office, we’d get nostalgic gushing about pickle loaf, hot Cheetos with bananas and milk, sucking the heads of crawdads, and various other dubious pairings and practices that, despite all odds, bring them joy. I may not be interested in trying (or reliving) them myself, but I like listening to others rave about their favorite things.
Speaking of suspect snacks, I think I’ll go see what I can find in the vending machine next door.
M. Suzanne Terry 