We eat first with our eyes

What is food?

Sustenance.
Nutrition.
Energy.

Mystery.

Each grain of rice locked up rock hard until treated with boiling water, then tender and full of aroma, the staple of half the world.

And an egg, sealed in its shell, hardly ever eaten raw, but cooked just about any way you can think of? A treasure of flavor and nutrition.


There's not much we eat that does not hold the potential to give tremendous pleasure. A simple carrot, while sweet and satisfying in its raw crunch, when roasted at just the right temperature with butter and herbs until the outside is caramelized and it is tender all the way through is full of richness and flavor. A potato, boiled then left to cool, when reheated is surprisingly silky. And chicken, the blandest of meats, but marinate it with the simplest of flavorings and it is a burst of wonder in the mouth.


I know there are plenty of people who eat to live, and that is a fine way. And perhaps I shouldn't live quite so much to eat, but what joy and pleasure to think of a meal, shop for the ingredients, prepare it with pleasure, and delight those eating? What better way to show them my love? What better way to show my joy?


Needless to say, I am thankful - for all these taste treasures, for all the hidden bites, for the samplings from around the world. Those vibrant, new-grass green olives that surprised me so the first time I ate them. A deep, dark chocolate cake laced with just a hint of cayenne that dances on the tongue and widens eyes.

Simple pleasures. Extravagant flavor!

Wealth

I laughed and wrestled and tickled with my nephews this afternoon, delighting in their squeals and fat hands. They gripped my long hair like reigns as I bucked and crawled around the living room, and later we tumbled and tossed on piles of pillows. They are old enough now to ask for what they want - a tickle hug, horse ride, Lego building - and we laugh away an afternoon, with only the occasional sour face.

I am delighted to arrive home tired, sore, my hair a crazy mess, my knees scuffed from crawling. How could I be anything other than delighted to play with these precious boys. Their love, their open and easy smiles, their fascination with all that surrounds them - all these things bring a thimble full of healing to my wounded heart. I have lots of love to give, and have been blessed with so many to love - family and otherwise.

I am rich.

Chocolate Pie

I was standing in the kitchen making a chocolate pie for my hubby (a deep, dark chocolate pie, made with bittersweet chocolate and with a sky-high meringue - where is my camera when I really need it!!) when one of the most beautiful songs in my "Quiet" mix began. It is lovely, romantic, sad. Slow and sweet. Beautiful. Everything one wants in a love song.

And it brought tears to my eyes.

Not because I haven't gotten flowers yet this Valentine's Day. Not because I don't feel loved enough. Not for any of those reasons. But because of a realization that hits me now and then...

...this love Tim and I share, this wonderful, deep, ever-growing, falling in love again and again love that we share - it is not going to result in beautiful children with my dark brown hair and his gray-green eyes, his strength of mind and my passionate spirit. We won't look across the room and see ourselves reflected in little faces . We're just going to be "us two".

Now that we're living in this reality, now that we've said it out loud, now that I'm trying to feel, grieve, heal, work through it - it feels so very real.

Valentine's Day is, indeed, about love. And I do love Tim so very much. But there's a sadness there, too.

I guess it's the very definition of bittersweet...

Mmmmm....

Think you don't like oatmeal? Think again!

Have you ever tried steel cut oats? Very different texture and flavor to that yucky, instant stuff in the paper envelope. Go to your local grocery store and buy yourself a package. You just might be surprised by the flavor, texture and deliciousness of this morning treat!

Here are easy instructions...

• Melt 2 tsp butter in a pan, add 1 c. oats and cook over fairly high heat until the raw oats are lightly toasted.

• Add 3 c boiling water and a light sprinkle of salt to the pan. Stir to combine well, then reduce the heat to a very low simmer. Cook about 25 minutes, stirring once or twice.

• When most of the water has been absorbed, stir 1 c milk into the oatmeal. Cook another 10 minutes or until the milk has been mostly absorbed.
  

• Lightly sweeten and add raisins - if you want.
  

This recipe should make enough for 2 breakfasts. Reheat in the microwave or on the stove.

Delish!

Morning thoughs

I'm up early this morning, fooling around on Tim's laptop while I keep warm under the covers. Egg is snuggling next to me, wishing I would stop typing and go back to sleep! The sun has made it's way past the horizon, gradually lightening the sky, and another day is upon us. The early morning flow of traffic has just begun, and soon I'll see families walking their kids to the nearby school. A cup of hot tea might soon be calling my name, and I'll stay warm with slippers and a sweater instead of these blankets. :)

I haven't written much lately. Not sure why. Nothing unusual going on, perhaps, and my hours are full. Working occasionally at the library, still editing for the engineering journal, cooking, doing laundry, hanging with friends - the usual stuff. A housewife's life. Tim was gone all last week on a business trip, and I loved my quiet days at home. I got lots of housework done, and finally took down all the Christmas decorations. Whew!

I've been thinking a lot about Dad these days, and am continuing to work through the reality of being an adult orphan. I think it doesn't matter how old you are when you lose your parents - knowing you are now without them has an impact on your psyche. Of course, I don't need much "parenting" these days, but I sure do miss Mom and Dad. I miss their wisdom. I miss Dad's laugh and the great conversations we had over breakfast. I miss what great cheerleaders Mom and Dad were and how they always encouraged me - in so many ways! Dad was my greatest cheerleader over the last 5 or 6 years, and I especially miss that. It is hard to suddenly not have someone consistently saying, "Great job! I love what I see in your life!" I'm having to be my own cheerleader, and it just isn't quite the same.

So just a little shade of blue to the start of this year. I have some friends who are really hurting. Tough stuff going on in their lives. Really tough stuff, and I am very thankful that our most difficult times have not overlapped. They were there for me in my darkest hours, and I hope I can give them the same kind of support. It seems that we have so much choice in our lives - how we handle the challenges that come our way. Will we choose to stay in the valleys, in the darkness, or will we find a way out, becoming stronger because of the struggle? If we choose the latter, if we choose to fight and grow, perhaps we can then be the strong shoulder for someone to lean on when they need it. I hope this is true for me.

Anyway, there's my musing for this morning. As my neighborhood awakens, as Tim begins to stir, as I think about my day and what I need to do - I am thankful for so much. Within the ups and downs of life, I feel a growing sense of comfort with who I am and where I can be of use. And that's a good thing.