organic girl

Today I found a new array of organic produce at my local Copp's grocery store: organic girl. The ubiquitous earthbound farms clamshells of greens disappeared, and in its place are more shapely, non-petroleum based clamshell containers of greens and salads. I selected the baby arugula blend, took one of the $.55 off coupons, and finished my shopping.

The blend is good, composed of mostly arugula. Peppery, distinctive, and fresh, it provided just the bite I needed on a Friday evening after a long week. While it's good to see the container is not made of fossil fuel, the fact that it's made of corn ("I'm in everything!") isn't all that much better, but it's a start.

I dined on a salad of baby arugula blend, roasted chickpeas, oranges, and cucumber with a balsamic orange dressing. Tasty. Then, I made a pizza with a part whole-wheat crust, spicy tomato sauce, roasted red peppers and broccoli, caramelized onions, arugula, and kurt henning's mozzarella. What a wonderful meal!

While most of my meal was decidedly not local, some of it was organic, and all of it was delicious. And, it was inspired by Barbara Kingsolver and her family's tradition of pizza Fridays, a tradition I'm trying to practice here as well. I cannot wait until Spring, when fresh veggies and fruits begin to show up at the farmer's markets and even on my own terrace garden. For now, snow continues to fall, melt, meld into ice, and fall yet again. We're experiencing the snowiest winter on record, and everyone is weary and grumbly because of the interminable stretch of winter. Spring seems a fantasy, a fairy tale, a gossamer dream...

ice floes

Today the temperature soared to thirty, nary a cloud drifted in the sky, and brilliant sunshine streamed down, melting the massive snow piles and inches of ice. To riff on country singer Deanna Carter, "I still remember when 30 seemed cold." And I have to disagree with former midwesterner T.S. Eliot--February, not April, "is the cruelest month." Everyone I know in the frozen tundra or nearby states reached the point of utter frustration, impotent rage, and/or depression weeks ago. But. Today the sun, the sky, the warmth called me outside for the first time in weeks.

As I walked the treacherous sidewalks, seeking one foothold after another, I found myself drawn to the layers of ice ensconced between inches of water. The ice bubbled, cracked, and shifted under my feet, and a fresh stream of water flowed upward. How like my heart, at moments in my life, beginning to thaw from the inside and out, with a translucent, cracked resilient layer of ice in the middle. I also thought of that wonderful scene in *Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind* where Joel and Clem venture out onto the ice and first share an intimate moment, surrounded by major fractures, but buoyed up by thick layers of frozen river water.

To boost sagging morale at work, I've baked chocolate chip cookies for my colleagues. And, in anticipation of my upcoming birthday, I've baked two dozen chocolate cupcakes to tuck into my overflowing freezer. I envision a pink meringue frosting with pink coconut gracing their naked tops. And now my home smells of home, of sweetness, of bliss.

home

I'm trying to find the Gretel Ehrlich quote that speaks of home being simultaneously nowhere and everywhere at once, a rather po-mo, po-co concept...but my sleepy eyes aren't alighting on the right words tonight.

Where is home? Is a place always home even after I'm gone? How long must I live in a place before it becomes home? What determines home-- landscape, architecture, food, culture, people, and/or the visceral intuition that zings through my body-mind-soul?

And what is homesickness if not for that tortuous ache, akin to unrequited love?!?

My landscapes shift, couldn't be more different, and yet are beloved each.

Austerity of snow and ice, fecundity of humidity and abundance.

Home. Homeless. Homeful.

the loveliest village

The one drawback to the fixed webcam is the image reversal you see here. C'est la vie. I'm composing this dispatch from Auburn, where I'm attending a conference. My "posse," the former Jane Austen Reading Group, has yet to assemble, so I walked to Mellow Mushroom tonight to pick up pizza and a large Abita root beer to go. I strolled down the street, as the sun set, leaving the temperature hovering around 50, and I felt glad. I ate too much pizza in my hotel room and then finished my presentation. It still needs a round of proofreading, but I can't look at it anymore tonight.

Where to begin drawing the contrasts between this former home and school of mine to where I am now? A vast gulf divides us. And I realize how I've become re-midwesternized when I'm surprised that every person I pass on the street says hello, and every man holds open a door. And the accent....oh, how I love it. And miss it. I had a moment of cognitive dissonance this afternoon when I drove into town and was listening to NPR and hearing a thick Wisconsin accent (of course the Dairyland State is receiving major press attention because of the pending political primary on Tuesday).

I can't seem to find the version of myself who lived here, but that's okay. I didn't really expect to, and in many ways I'm very glad that she has been absorbed into who I am now. I think of my life as a series of small transformations, whose additive sum eventually creates a new version of myself.

On my way to Auburn I had the chance to catch up with my friend M for the first time in years. We had a lovely long lunch, and then I was back on the road, in my rental car, a silver Mustang that purrs. Suddenly, my G6 seems rather weak...

Tomorrow I'll reconnect with more friends, and spend some time on my own wandering my old haunts. And remembering how much I came to love this loveliest village on the plains.

craving chard

swiss chard, dharmagirl's trusty macbook webcam

Before returning to work in January, I treated myself to Barbara Kingsolver's delightful *Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.* She writes about food politics and the importance and experience of eating locally with an awareness of the difficulties and moral dilemmas her family and her many readers may face. These qualities, along with her lovely prose, further fired me up to do my best to eat even more mindfully, thoughtfully, and compassionately than I already do (and, I think I'm doing fairly well, not buying into the SAD--standard american diet). Still, I have miles to go before I eat, as I order chocolate from around the world and bread from Zingerman's in Ann Arbor--not exactly local, and foods that I will have an impossible time giving up as they sustain my overall well-being on these long winter days. Being amidst a deep freeze in Wisconsin does not afford many local vegetables at this time of the year. I console myself with the fact that I'm joining a CSA (community supported agriculture) this Spring, and that my dairy products are local.

Anyway, Kingsolver wrote so lovingly about Swiss Chard that suddenly, my craving for this hearty green skyrocketed. I searched my local grocery stores to no avail. I told my colleagues/friends about my Chard situation, and it seemed the only possibility was to travel to a larger city in search of this vegetable. I decided I would have to wait for my next trip to Milwaukee to find this elusive green, when, to my utter delight, I received a package from my Mom, to whom I had also bemoaned about my chardlessness. Inside I found this beautiful bouquet of rainbow chard, ready to be consumed. What a lovely surprise and perfect gift.

And so, on another sub-zero day, I will make a large pot of soup--tomato base, with garlic, a variety of herbs, cannellini beans, whole wheat pasta, and CHARD. I will eat this alongside a wedge of Paesano bread from Zingerman's and rejoice at being blessed with such thoughtful family members.

My seed catalog arrived this week, and I'm nervously dreaming of Spring and the project I'm about to undertake--growing a smattering of my own foods in containers on my deck.

And I'm writing again, squeezing in more time for journaling, working on my scholarly article/presentation, and thinking of essays that I want to polish and submit for publication. Trying to think of myself as a REAL writer, instead of someone who simply dabbles and teaches others how to write.

the scholar at work

photo of dharmagirl, courtesy of macbook photobooth

snow swirls and spins
hot chocolate and toast
reading, taking notes
one week to prepare
back to Auburn
presenting
this time, with degree
haywood and bushnell
intrigue, scandal
breaking the mold
matri-literary?
the question before me


busy at work, making my once-a-semester stab at scholarly writing (how i miss the possibility of a new project! how little time i have to write when i'm drowning in student writing that needs urgent, dire attention...). winter's relentless grasp drives us all indoors, seeking fleece throws, steaming beverages, and hearty fare. i can't wait to shed a few layers next week when i'm in Alabama! excited to see my friends and my mentor/professors, now colleagues. anxious to be back in the place where i lived, loved, and grew so much over the course of six years. already anticipating a surreal, bittersweet return. stay warm, stay happy, and have HOPE that spring will arrive soon (imagine my delight at receiving a seed catalog in the mail...visions of container gardening dance in my head...)

fromage chapeau

Thanksgiving, 2007. Holland, Michigan.

To recap an earlier story and share the photographic proof (without a digital camera there's a delightful delay between event and image)...

I return to the parental homestead for the traditional autumnal feast, complete with the traditional football frenzy of the Detroit Lions versus the team du jour. This year, that lucky team is none other than the Green Bay Packers. Surrounded by my family, those dear Lions and Bears fans, I take a break from the kitchen (hence the cute apron) and boldly enter the living room wearing something special from Wisconsin. I'm met by hoots and hollers. My brother threatens to tear up the foam wedge of fromage, which I've borrowed from my friends the G-family. My cousin shields his face from even looking at me, and my Mom snaps this photo...

stream, meet lake

Lake Michigan, December, 2007

winter records

My first winter back in Michigan after living in Alabama for 6 years and Georgia for one year shocked me with freezing temperatures and seemingly endless snow. My family joked that an especially cold winter was a welcome home gift for me.

Now, here I am, my first winter in Wisconsin, and it's a winter for the records. The snowiest January in a decade. Long stretches of days in the single digits.

A truly frigid morning: -11 degrees, with a -40 degree wind chill. Certain we would have a "cold" day, if not a snow day, I camped out on the couch watching the school closings scroll at the bottom of the tv screen to no avail.

As I headed outside into the insanely cold weather, a line from *Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer* zipped into my mind: "weather not fit for man nor beast."

Welcome to Wisconsin?!?

this one's for the cheeseheads

from wikipedia, licensed via GFDL

Assimilation happens slowly, with small yet seismic jolts underneath the surface. Somehow I think that dreaming about Brett Favre two nights before the NFC championship is one such subliminal shift. And, NO, it wasn't that kind of dream.

Sadly, the god-like Favre and the good ol' Pack suffered a heartbreaking loss on the frozen tundra. A collective tear was shed by the entire dairyland state. And, yes, I did watch a good 1/3 of the game. I had to. I'm in Wisconsin now. Assimilation is at work. The frozen tundra, incidentally, is also not a joke. A deep, soul-drenching cold has submerged my new state and now snow falls in small squalls and swirls (apparently I'm fond of s-alliteration this evening...).

And so, another move, another place slowly becoming home, another winter, with bone-chilling and soul-testing depths of cold and barrenness.

new home

I'm watching the sky turn from grey (where it's been stuck all day) to dark. Right now it's at that moment of slate blue before slipping into sapphire and then black. My East wall is predominantly windows, affording me a lovely view of the lake over and through the rooftops, electric wires, and satellite dishes of neighboring homes. That's what this photo represents. Unfortunately, on gloomy winter days, the lake melts into the sky (or vice versa), but trust me, it's out there.

Join me, won't you, for a little tour of my new home: the aforementioned window filled room is the living room, with cozy booknooks, and a comfy couch to stretch out on and watch Lake Michigan, fat squirrels that eat the fallen bird seed, or small and colorful birds who perch on the feeder.

Now, head west, and you're in the kitchen, the literal and figurative heart of my home. Newly redone, the kitchen features a glasstop cooktop with warming center, a hot water dispenser, quiet dishwasher, many lights, and a pass through window that also provides views of the stupendous Lake Michigan. A portable Island is a good place to eat and read, or to set up my laptop.

In the front of the house you'll find two bedrooms, one decked out in pink and green and serving the dual purpose of guest room and study; the other, with amethyst walls and light blocking shades, is the perfect bedroom for sleeping long and late.

Finally, highlights of the bathroom include a pedestal sink, and a shower with a rainhead. The other lovely trick is that the door won't stay open--allowing it to naturally close holds the heat in the small room and makes for a gentle start to the day with a warm shower.

So, please, come and visit! I've already hosted my Michigan moving crew (Mom and Dad, though they only saw the place in disarray), the VP (who spent an afternoon enjoying tea, cocoa, and chocolate pound cake), and my Grandma C is on her way for this coming (and very cold) weekend.

goodbye, michigan

My holiday visit to the magical mitten draws to an end after nearly two weeks of relaxation and reconnection. Today my parents are driving me back to Wisconsin to help me start moving into my new place (hoorah!).

I enjoyed catching up with college friends at one very pink first birthday party for little S; a day of tromping around in the woods and chatting with best friend S; a lunch of spinach feta quiche and darjeeling tea at Schuler’s Bookstore and Cafe in East Lansing and an afternoon shopping with best friend H; a delicious breakfast (cranberry oatmeal pancakes) at Morningstar Cafe with my grandparents; a vigorous yoga class; breakfast, lunch, and shopping at Zingerman’s with S; watching Rodgers and Hammerstein’s 1960 production of *Cinderella* with my Mom, Grandma, Aunt B, and cousins F, N, A, S; cooking with my family; sharing a Christmas eve cocktail with my brother L; and spending lots of quality time with my mom and dad, shopping, eating, walking in the woods, drinking wine, watching movies, and chatting.

Now it’s time to establish some new routines and goals, starting with moving to my new adorable apartment with lovely accoutrements.

I’ll miss the quiet beauty of my parents’ house in winter on days like yesterday and today when snowflakes alternate with searingly gorgeous blue skies, drawing a sharp distinction between black tree branches and fluffy, sparkly white snow lining the woods and draping over pine boughs.

happy christmas eve!

After a *grueling* train ride to Michigan on Friday (the train from Chi-town to EL was 3.5 hours late due to a derailment which necessitated our train using different tracks that needed a different engineer, who couldn't make it to our train for 1.5 hours)...and after 24 hours of blowing, gusty high winds and powdery, horizontal snow...and after some last minute christmas shopping...and after a lovely first birthday party for little baby S. and visit with friends...and after 2 delicious meals at Zingerman's...I'm here in good ol' western Michigan, in a white winter wonderland, ready to celebrate with my family. Our traditions are shifting this year and it's a year of transitions. It's good to remember that times, circumstances, and people change and sometimes our rituals need to alter as well.

As Zora Neale Hurston writes in one of my favorite novels, *Their Eyes Were Watching God,* "there are years that ask questions and years that provide answers"...I would add that there are years for new beginnings, and years when we survey all around us with fresh eyes. This year has been one of questions and answers, and many blessings. I'm grateful for all of the wonderful people who continue to touch my life with their kindness and generosity. I hope you know how special you are, and how I treasure you. I know it sounds trite and hackneyed, but you are my greatest gift.

"what does this song mean? my whole life i don't know what this song means..."

photo courtesy of wikipedia, licensed under creative commons


I think I've mentioned Dan Fogelberg's "Same Old Lang Syne" on this blog before. Yesterday morning I heard the song for the first time this holiday season, and, sure enough, I was in tears by the end of the song. And then the DJ announced that Dan Fogelberg passed away this last weekend. I wouldn't consider myself a DF fan, but this song has a strange emotive power.

Meeting again after years in the frozen food section symbolizes the coldness that intervening years can create between estranged lovers. The coldness melts as they attempt to reconnect, however superficially, and aided by a little alcohol. At the end of the song, the snow turns into rain, illustrating the perhaps greater sadness of an emotional thaw after years of frozeness and emptiness...isn't it heart-rending? Doesn't it perfectly express that distance that exists where there used to be none?

Have I mentioned that I love grocery stores?!? I think that's one of the reasons the song resonates. The grocery store represents quotidian necessities, and, for a foodie like me, a place of infinite possibility, on which the song capitalizes.

In other news, I've stirred some interest in writing a collaborative fun romance tale, and plan to create a blog for this creative endeavor in the new year. This all stems from my paper-grading-stress-induced-confession-of-funny-romance-stories at study night on Sunday. My very talented colleagues are creating romantic phrases that are discipline specific, and what more fun than to write a collaborative story?

a truth universally acknowledged...

watercolor sketch of Jane Austen by her sister Cassandra, 1804, courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

Saturday afternoons mean watching PBS cooking shows amidst grading, baking, and doing laundry. Between Rick Bayless' *Mexico, One Plate at a Time* and *America's Test Kitchen,* the most wondrous "commercial" appeared: montage of scenes from various Jane Austen films appeared, accompanied by the strains of Coldplay's tear-jerker "Fix You." At the end of the lavish display of love requited and not, appeared the kicker: The Complete Jane Austen, January 2008! Jane-ites, unite:)

opalescent lake michigan

Today was the best kind of winter day--sunny and crisp, with a bright blue sky in counterpoint to gleaming white snow. When I arrived home around 3:30 pm, I layered on wool and fleece and headed outside. I wanted to walk by the lake because the magic of light and snow created the illusion of opalescence...the lake gently undulated, slowly, under small patches of thin ice. At once white, silver, blue, and pink, the effect was as breathtaking as the chilly air. The sky turned pink and violet, striped with thin grey clouds. Small ice floes are beginning to form around the shoreline, and yet flocks of geese still remain.

In between my interminable, infernal grading, I baked a loaf of cranberry orange nut bread for my American Lit class tomorrow morning. I'm a little nervous that someone may be allergic to nuts...I try to be sensitive to such needs, but this was one of the few treats I had all the ingredients on hand for. I just tested an end slice--crunchy, tart, and nutty. Delicious!

I'm excited to plan ahead for next weekend, the winter solstice, when I'm back in Michigan visiting my dear family and friends. My va-cay begins with a short visit with my two best friends S and H (and H's lovely family), and a very special first bday celebration for S! Hoorah! And, watch out, Zingermans, here I come! S and I will enjoy breakfast, our favorite meal, there, and my brother L and I will stop there on our way back to Holland to buy the Fromage de Noel. And cranberry pecan bread (very different than my aforementioned "tea loaf," this is a dense, bread-bread. I know that sounds ridiculous, but my addled brain cannot think of a better description).

citrus love

photo by Scott Bauer, from the Wikipedia Commons

One of the bright spots on these gloomy, chilly winter days is the profusion of delicious citrus fruits. I love starting my morning with half of a ruby red grapefruit--a tart and tangy wake up! And a juicy navel orange at lunchtime brings a smile to my face. I particularly need the nutrients of citrus now as I'm trying to drive away a common cold...

I'm in the thick of grading essays...one class after another...and everyone's stress level is high as we anticipate our long January break.

My neighbors continue to play video games late at night, and the digitized sound of shooting and who knows what else thumps up through the floor and fills my bedroom. I try to crank my classical music via NPR as a peaceful antidote, but then it's simply too loud to sleep. So I made use of my guest bedroom and slept wonderfully, even if the bed is much smaller than my own big bed.

tales from the city

This morning I'm recovering from a long day of fun yesterday, all whilst hosting a little common cold. C and I set out for the big city late yesterday morning. Our first stop was the Allen Edmonds shoe store/factory, where we discovered a secret cache of *nice* women's shoes at reduced prices...like Cole Haan, Privo, and Ugg. We also discovered some very attractive men with some damn fine shoes.

We then made our way through some of the sadder parts of Milwaukee to the cute gentrified area of Wauwatosa, where we met A and Red Beard for a delicious lunch at City Market. I had a veggie quiche, a cranberry walnut scone, some fresh fruit, and coffee. Sitting in the pastry case was a Buche de Noel, and I was filled with zeal to make one myself. A said they made one in French class when she was in HS.

We said goodbye, and C and I searched for the secret shop, which proved a little tricky. In the middle of our search we went to a few neat shops--a women's boutique and an independent bookstore. After many circuitous routes, we finally found the secret shop and spent a wonderful while in the tiny gem of a store, buying gifts and dreaming of future visits...

Then it was off to the controlled madness of the shopping mall. I have never seen so many security guards and police, which saddened my heart to think of how much needless, senseless violence happens. We shopped, chatted, and drank coffees and lattes from Alterra.

Our final stop was for pizza in She-town, a perfectly delicious ending to a delightful day.

To think that this time last year my future was so uncertain and all I knew of this place that I am now was indeed my now friend C, and the possibility that I could end up here. And now here I am, and it all still seems a bit of a miracle to me.

frozen tundra: it's no joke

Between the Brett Favre obsession and the cold weather, I've been schooled on essential Wisconsin-ism this week. Let's just say that to even question Favre's god-like status is tantamount to blasphemy in these parts. And, apparently, to argue that up-and-coming QB's are "the next BF" is a logical fallacy.

As for the weather--jeez louise, as my friend B. would say--it's a depressing situation. The low temps for the next few days are as follows: -2, 0, 0, 23, 5, 5. That 23 looks like a heat wave:) I've made quite an impression on campus with my pink uggs, which I usually intend to change out of, but on cold days, they're just warmer and comfier to wear than heels.

Tomorrow I shop! I'm most excited to go to a nifty little specialty store that I can't write about here because I would spoil the surprise for many people who may be reading this blog and receiving a gift from me. And, I found a little cafe with a delicious menu for a lovely lunch. Then there's the mall, which will be *crazy* with harried shoppers. I may need a few zen/yoga/happy place breaks throughout the day.

This week's highlight was a talent show on campus. The students gave phenomenal performances, and I was so impressed with everyone involved in the grand production. The final act was a student doing the Solja Boy dance, which I've decided I simply must learn. I've added learning the dance to my increasingly long list of things to do in January when I have a break (list also includes moving, writing a conference paper, preparing for one new class, revamping two classes, going to doctor/dentist/eye doctor, etc).

baking up a storm

The first winter storm of the season brings excitement, nervousness, and non-stop weather updates on TV. I started my morning at Lowes, where I selected a snow shovel--my very first. I've never been in charge of snow removal before, so I needed to stock up on accoutrements. I then stopped at the grocery store to buy the items I forgot yesterday, and headed home to await the coming storm.

Light flurries began around 11:30, and continued to build, swirling with the increasing wind, and turning into a sleet, ice, and snow mixture, which continues as I write now.

To while away the stormy afternoon, I took refuge in the kitchen and welcomed my friend C. and her adorable, pink-loving, expert candy-cane smashing daughter T. Together we made chocolate sandwich cookies--two thin, delicious wafers filled with pink peppermint frosting and then rolled in the aforementioned smashed candies. And we attempted to make marshmallow fudge. I discovered that substituting regular milk for evaporated milk doesn't necessarily work so well, and my "fail safe fudge" turned into a fudge mousse. I'm thinking of rolling it into balls and calling it truffles...We had a lovely afternoon, chatting and baking, and it was just the holiday fun and friendly lift I needed on a day that otherwise would've seemed really long and rather lonely.

Tonight I had a long chat with my dear friend S. and worked on a Christmas gift for some friends...

If only every stormy day could be so peaceful and homebound:)