I awoke to a Symphony by Rain. A couple blocks down from my home a massive tree limb got severed.
Morning sky from the office
There's so much I wanted to write. Now that I sit before the screen my mind goes blank, as if shrugging, "Uh, I don't know. What do you want to write about?"
On my way home from work tonight I didn't mind the traffic. Towards the end of the afternoon something took a turn for the better. Last week I had trained 2/3 of our office staff to use a new project management software. People are finally testing the water and using it. I also finally got an upgrade on hardware. Got to love nonprofit organizations. After three years I've finally graduated to the Snow Leopard operating system (Apple just released an update to Lion today). Ah, but now I have a laptop that I can take home with me. Translation: now I can work from home on snow days.
The best news is the one from my mother. She called me as I was still driving. Today she had an appointment with a doctor, a specialist in another town. The end result was that it wasn't as bad as what we had thought. The doctor was able to take care of the situation right there in his office. To hear the outcome was such a relief. Thank God!
Let's not take for granted the good news each day brings. Sometimes it is more challenging to find the good bits in the midst of accumulating bills, tight deadlines, ominous circumstances...and the blues. Ever get one of those blues-y days? They're the pits! So, how do you remedy yourself out of the blues? With me it's a combination of things; distraction works the best. Comedy, good food, good book, good friend. Speaking of food, during today's production meeting I ruminated about tonight's menu. Yes, normally I would feel guilty about letting my mind wander during a meeting, but the meeting itself had wandered. Talapia and a slaw salad was what I had sketched for my grocery list.
Once I arrived at the grocery store I took off the cute high heels and slipped on some nondescript oh-so-comfortable Clark's. It absolutely did not match my outfit, but my feet were happy. Then I when I got home I dawdled a bit before I finally got cooking. In an hour's time dinner was ready, and by then I was HUNGRY.
Happy Friday Eve!
Grocery List
Bag of frozen Talapia filets
Bag of Idaho potatoes
Bag of broccoli slaw
Bottle of Asian sesame dressing (which I am quite excited about)
Bottle of Pinot Grigio
Menu
Broccoli Slaw with Asian Sesame Dressing
Roasted Potatoes with Rosemary
Skillet Fried Talapia with Minced Garlic
Wine Pairing
The Naked Grape California Pinot Grigio
Prepped potatoes ready for the oven
Let's uncork and ENJOY!
Voi-la! Roasted potatoes drizzled with olive oil and seasoned with rosemary
Very thrilled by this dressing
Happy Dinner
Oh, how I loved this song when I was little! My mother bought me the soundtrack on cassette and every night I would play this song over and over as I tumbled and did somersaults on her bed. What a feeling!
The first time I flew on an airplane I was five. I wore a brand new blue dress my mother bought for the trip.
I still prefer a window seat. Once we ascend into the clouds I love staring out the window and getting lost in my thoughts.
It seems easier to do that on a plane than during an office break. No matter where I go during break I am constantly aware that I am grounded to the office. The scenery, the sounds, the faces are all reminders of my location on earth.
Sometimes there is no escape being on the ground. Rush hour traffic bottlenecks, and I'm among drivers who are more impatient than me. We're all trying to get somewhere...and quickly.
If I could be anywhere right now, right at this moment, I would be flying somewhere above the clouds. Just for a moment...to be able to escape the ordinary...and view life from above.
I like how the world smells after rain. How after a busy day at the office I can come home to peace and quiet.
When I was little I would watch for my mother's car to pull into the drive way. The sun would start to set. By that time I had already finished eating, finished playing with the neighbor kids on our block. Grandma would already have me bathed and dusted with baby powder. Gradually the street lights and house lights would grow brighter as the sunset dipped lower. Soon her headlights would illuminate the gate and glare into the window as she pulled up to the house.
My mother smelled of perfume and air conditioned office. She would gather me into her arms and kiss me as I hugged her neck. Grandma would serve dinner for the adults, and I would sit on my mother's lap while she ate.
Sometimes my mother reminisce. Sometimes I think back at our old life in the old country. Sometimes memories are kinder than reality.
Growing up with my brother in America we would wait for Dad to get home before eating dinner. Then we would ease into the evening.
Tonight, dinner consisted of staples that were already on hand. Rice. String beans. Snow peas. Red curry paste. Tofu.
I made friend rice by heating oil in a skillet with red curry paste. Then I added two eggs and stirred in cooked rice with a dash of fish sauce.
Next I stir-fried the string beans and snow peas with a little oil and red curry paste. Since I discovered the versatility of red curry paste about a year ago, I've used it in almost all of my rice dishes.
Fried rice with stir-fried string beans and snow peas and tofu marinated in soy sauce and sesame oil, coated with black pepper.
The fragrant smell reminded me of Grandma's cooking. Her culinary skills put mine to shame. She could cook authentic ethnic cuisine using an open flame in a clay cooking pot outside on the back porch. Stove and ovens? She didn't need them. It's a shame she didn't record her recipes. None of her children took interest in learning how she cooked.
Here's to memories. And here's to my mother: I love you.
For my friend and I this weekend was our first symphony concert as season ticket holders.
The Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra directed by Miguel Harth-Bedoya featured Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 4 in G Major. Before this weekend I knew nothing about Mahler.
Prior to the performance was a pre-concert lecture which we attended. According to the lecturer, who was dressed to perform--but only if the audience applauded long and loud for an encore, Mahler was born in Bohemia to a poor family of twelve siblings of which only four survived. His parents recognized that he had musical talents so they saved and scraped money to send him to Vienna. There he excelled in piano, and he learned music composition but that didn't take until he was older. Instead he became a conductor and composed music during the summer months when there were no concerts. He was known to be mean and dictatorial as a conductor, but no one complained about the quality of his production.
Mahler had his eye on becoming the director of the Vienna Opera. He was well qualified for the position; however, he was a Jew. For that reason alone he would not be able to get the position unless he converted to Roman Catholicism. He did and got the job. The lecturer said that in Mahler's life he waged many internal battles with himself: was he a country bumpkin or a sophisticated urbanite, was he a Jew or a Catholic, was he a conductor or a composer?
When Mahler composed music he would do so by a beautiful lake. He would construct a hut and stay by the lake writing music.
Even though his Fourth Symphony was not very well received at the time, Mahler was right in predicting that it would become his most popular.
With utmost clarity and deceptive simplicity Mahler looks through the eyes of a child at heavenly bliss in Das Himmlische Leben [the fourth movement]. Naturally this bliss includes culinary delights--from the perspective of a needy Austrian Catholic child.(Jane Vial Jaffe, program notes)
The symphony began with the sounds of sleigh bells that beckoned the listener to follow and then as the strings joined in it swept one gently along with the melody. It really is quite beautiful, and words do not do it justice to describe the experience. There were moments where the music is hushed as if to bid the audience good night only to erupt in boisterous passion. Soprano Ilana Davidson sang Das Himmlische Leben in the fourth movement. Her voice was crystal.
There's no music at all on the earth
that can ever compare with ours...
The angelic voices
delight the senses!
For all things awake to joy.
--Das Knaben Wunderhorn
Here is a clip of Leonard Bernstein conducting the first half of the first movement.
Time and waiting. We wait for time to pass, and we wait for time to come. We're always waiting for something. If we learn not to mind the waiting, then we'll enjoy life so much more.
At the end of waiting comes the long anticipated moment. It's just a moment. That one moment that also passes. They all pass, the good and the bad. At the end of that moment begins another waiting process, but in that space between 'the end' and 'here we go again' is the sadness of departure.
I've always been the kid who took the ending of a good moment so hard. I fretted about it hours before the end arrived. I tormented myself by wishing it wouldn't end. Rather than enjoy what happened, I sorrowed over it ending. So when I saw this quote, it was like spokes of sunshine. I have a new perspective.
Don't cry because it ended. Smile that it happened.
How about that? Rather than lament, celebrate and savor the memories.
This past Labor Day holiday a dear college friend came to visit me. I enjoyed every moment of her stay, and we had lots of fun. It was sad to say good bye, but we made new memories to revisit--new silly memories to relive and laugh over them.
Trying on hats and masks...yes, I did too, but those pictures are on her camera
Words are the dress of thoughts; which should no more be presented in rags, tatters, and dirt than your person should.--Philip Dormer Stanhope
How do you answer tough questions? How do you respond when offended?
In the Christian circle grace is mentioned often. "God's grace is sufficient" is often quoted usually in the context for doing a job or tolerating a personality. Something a friend said recently caused me to evaluate my behavior in light of grace. The mark or evidence of grace in your life is demonstrated by how you react to a person or situation that offended you. Question is: were you gracious? Was I gracious?
I'm not the type of person who speaks everything that crosses my mind. I filter. However, I don't think the fuming thoughts I harbored could be excused even though I didn't express them. The quote above is apropos. I spend time and effort to make myself presentable. The words that I speak should be selected with greater care than the clothes I wear.
Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.--Mark Twain (http://www.quotationspage.com/quote/253.html)
