A Recipe

Butternut Squash Soup

I do not often post recipes because the Internet is full of them and this blog is not a food blog, but this soup has been such a nice success that I wanted to share it. I made this the other day for the second time (and I have tweaked the recipe for my tastes) and found this so luscious in the cool fall.  It has a little fat, but is really healthy.

Ingredients

1 medium butternut squash cut in half and roasted cut side down  in a pan with just a little water until very tender at 350 degrees...20-30 minutes.  (Be careful in cutting the hard squash!)
1 tablespoon butter
2 or 3 tablespoons coconut milk
1 & 1/2 cups chicken broth or vegetable broth
1 tsp ground anise seed (If you do not like anise,  nutmeg or cinnamon can be used)
2 to 3 tsps. ground curry (less pungent type is best)
1 granny smith (or any other) apple peeled and chunked.
1 small piece of ginger peeled (size of thumbnail)
(You can also add a small bit of sugar if you want a bit sweeter taste...I like it both ways.)

When squash is tender remove it and let cool before carefully scooping out the seeds to toss and then spoon out soft meat from the squash and put in food processor.  Process squash, apple and ginger in a food processor until smooth.  Warm butter, coconut milk, and broth in the microwave or saucepan and add slowly to the pureed ingredients.  Add spices.  Add salt if you think it needs more and puree briefly.  Pour all into a sauce pan and heat until it is the desired consistency, some like a soup and others like it more thick like a bisque.  Serve with a dollop of thinned sour cream or low fat yogurt and a shake of smoked paprika (from Hungary if you have it ;-))  You can also add a shake of hot red pepper if you like that.

Yeah photo is blurred...but I was hungry!

Courtship

(With apologies to this state park volunteer.)

I was walking through the hardware store today (I had sold some stock and was going to buy some birdseed for the feeders '-) ) and I noticed that lines were beginning to get long as it was a Saturday.  A woman, close to my age, maybe a little younger, with a man's haircut was watching me closely.  I suddenly felt guilty pushing the cart with the 40 pound bag of bird seed toward the register thinking to myself that she might be having trouble meeting her food bills and here I was feeding woodpeckers!

An elderly man with a small electric drill got in line behind me.  She looked from across the other register line at him and smiled and called, "Hey, Joe, how are you doing?"

Joe smiled, left my line and got behind her, since she was already approaching a register clerk, and they chatted warmly while both paid for their purchases.

I saw them again in the parking lot as I was lifting the heavy bird meal into the trunk of my car.

They were joking about some project he was working on with that drill and she was laughing that she would just "paint a circle over it."

Then as I returned the cart to the store door and passed the elderly couple, the man turned to the woman and asked, "Say, where did you get those fancy pants?"

I looked up and for the first time noticed that the woman was dressed in a baggy gray sweat shirt and a pair of pink and purple flowered pants that only a colorblind or very confident person would wear out shopping.  I missed what she said in response, but could not help but smile...old people flirting and men still use silly lines!

Pass the Milk, Please.

Sometimes I feel like a waste.  I feel as though I am wasting my precious remaining time.  This usually happens after I go on Facebook and find:

One of my friends, a mother of three, is working her way through an innervation class memorizing tons of muscle names and what they do and getting an A in the class.

My SIL just rode 17.1 bike miles with her friends at lunch...I don't even have friends to go to lunch with, really!

A distant friend that I barely know has just finished a photography exhibit and sold a photograph.

Another friend who is fighting a serious disease has time to promote fund raising for her daughter's illness.

So....I logged off FB and made some Heath bar cookies and then promptly ate two big ones while they were warm and chewy.

Acid Base, Drinking the Kool-aid.

My mood is more creative these days.  I have less angst and fear of others.  If one met me, they would see a well-balanced, neat, clean, intelligent woman on the outside.  One would never see the turmoil, second guessing, sometimes sadness on the inside, but then, I was a drama minor in college and got all "A"s..

I do think the terrible things that the Tea Party representatives say about everyone from Girl Scouts to this President have created an acid base in my personality and has affected my mood.  I do not worship this President or think he is better than sliced bread or even one of our most outstanding leaders in history.  I do think he is so far better than the crazies the GOP has put forth who cannot relate to the poor, or those different in gender interests, heritage, religion and other areas of their life.  I keep trying to see why we are so different, because I do think the average American is willing to compromise and does not think every millionaire is a crook and every poor person is a lazy slug.  I lean liberal because I know who has more power to sway this world...the rich crook...they are more dangerous to our Democracy.  The lazy will not revolt if they don't get a free ride...they just want food and health care.  If we have a revolt it will happen when there is no longer a middle class.

I have been following the ACA Law and the criticisms of it as the weeks pass.  While certain conservative press releases indicated that Obama's presidency has raised the price of health insurance dramatically...the facts are that the last real study on this done by a non-partisan group was in 2008.  During that study and adding figures up to now it seems that under the Bush administration health care costs went up over 10% each year (closer to 13%) and under this recent President a little over 5% each year.  The other argument against ACA is that over 100 health care classifications have been adopted and forced on insurers and doctors by this President.  But research shows these classifications were created by the United Nations years ago, adopted under the Bush administration with a delayed implementation until this year! 

The issue of the terrible roll-out of this process rests totally on the shoulders of this administration.  I do not know why their IT work has been so very terrible, but I think it is because the people who got the contract were unqualified friends of the administration and they ended up subcontracting the work to some other contractor. (Shades of FEMA under Bush.)  We will see what the head of Health and Human Services says to get out of this.  There is no excuse!  The government does this all the time...under both parties...I have worked as a Fed and remember a Senator's nephew who got a job in our building for no reason other than that he was a Senator's nephew!

Whether this ACA will work effectively or not, only time will tell.  I do believe that everyone in the richest country in the world should have access to health care, everyone, including young working adults, should carry the burden of this health care, and I would much rather pay for someone's health insurance subsidy with my taxes rather than their visit to the emergency room in the hospital!

If you question how closely this subsidy will be regulated...that is up to each of us to question.  We don't do it with Defense contractors but maybe we will with health companies.

Growing Up

So Mom is reading grandson (9 years old) one of the last books in the series on Harry Potter tonight, and it is the book where everyone is starting to have crushes on everyone else...and there is lots of mistletoe and kissing.
Grandson stopped her reading and asked a question about the mistletoe and then another question about who was kissing whom.

Mom began to explain and then said, " ...but you probably don't like to hear about all this kissing,"

Grandson says, "actually, I don't really mind it"...."I am not one of those people that gets all uncomfortable when there is kissing."

Answers

In my prior post I had met a woman who had a serious medical issue but indicated that she had a family income that would not mean she could get all the expensive care she needed, although I know she must have an excellent insurance policy.  The Affordable Health Care Act is now a law and being implemented over the next few years (in spite of the fact that they hired terrible web page programmers and were really stupid about how popular this was going to be) over the next months.  The article below is one of the simplest I have read  in explaining what it is and what it does and what it costs.  If you, like the woman above, have excellent some semblance of a fair health insurance policy, this article below will not be important for you.

 http://www.addictinginfo.org/2013/03/29/obamacare-in-plain-english-what-it-means-for-you/

(As I have written before I have a federal health insurance policy just like the members of Congress.   It might be important to note that Federal employees currently working have had pay freezes the last three years and their health insurance premiums went up 7.3% in 2011, 3.8% in 2012, and 3.4% in 2013..2014 premiums are being sent out at a 3.7% increase.  Those bureaucrats sure have it easy.)

Need a Mantra Fast!

We had decided to throw away some money on a fancy seafood lunch on the porch/deck of the local tourist restaurant as a last fall fling.  The market was going to drop.  Our savings, which had finally climbed past their original high before the prior administration crashed the market with its deregulation of banks and investment firms, was going to thin once again.  One of the economists, those who rarely cry fire, said we should be prepared for as much as a 45% loss.  This time the crash would be because of love of power and the addiction to the sound of one's voice and the fear that one might be excluded from the club.  Even the rich puppeteers pulling the strings in the background were gasping at this monster they had created and backed off on their agenda because it meant they, too, were going to lose.  We were not confident they could stop the landslide at this late date.  Therefore, like sailors on the sinking ship we decided to drown ourselves in the last of the rum before all we had to drink was salty water.

I was a little mad pissed off and determined to order the most expensive item on the menu in self-destruction.  But since I live in 'good-ole-boy' land, that item was a HUGE platter of assorted fried seafood while the next was a steak and seafood heart-attack on a plate.  I kept seeing in my mind the type of person that would order this and with greasy fingers pummel it to breaded crumbs in no time.  Thus I ordered the crab-stuffed shrimp, not the most expensive, but hardly cheap for a lunch.  I ordered a glass of Chardonnay and fully expected to drink two glasses in celebration, but found one sufficient.  Hubby ordered the largest order of fried shrimp they had.  Then we also added an expensive tuna sashimi appetizer just for the hell of it.  As we selected excellent slices of raw tuna to dip into a soy and ginger and wasabi mixture I looked up and saw a woman working her way between the close tables from behind us and heading to the private corner of the deck overlooking the water in front of us.  She seemed a little unsteady on her feet as she grabbed a table with one step and then a chair with the next and I was wondering if she had decided to get drunk in mid-day.  She smiled at us as she passed and then proceeded to blue-tooth her way into some conversation as she faced the sparkling water.

She was pretty, pushing 40, and built like a stocky sex kitten.  She wore a soft blonde bob and dressed with casual chic.  There was some energy about her that caught my eye when she made eye contact.  When she finished her call she worked her way back past our table to the table behind us which was filled with other adults and children.  She winced as she leaned against an empty chair at our table.

She smiled and look at us and then said, "You two look like you have figured out this retirement thing."

I said, "I hope so." and then I asked if she was OK.  She looked in pain.

"Oh, 'Ma'am, I am just fine.  I am a warrior and working through this."

Since she clearly was open to talking and we were waiting for our entree, I asked if she had been in an accident.

"Oh, no ma'am, this is the result of a long story...an experiment on my body.  I was part of a drug trial at Walter Reed."

Because of her polite and frequent use of "ma'am" that clued me that she was either ex or current military or a southern raised lady.

She proceeded to tell us in a somewhat disjointed and lawyerly fashion that she was planning on an anonymous lawsuit so that others who had been in the same drug trial that debilitated her would get money when she won it.  She said that the drug had been 'black-boxed' now due to her campaign and while it was still advertised on TV, she said it could destroy lives.  She had taken it 10 years ago right before/after FDA approved it.  She was now being treated in one of the best, small, unknown and black hospitals in the city and she would not tell us its name...but "we could figure it out because we are smart people."

She also indicated she was married to a doctor who had lost his privileges at his hospital because he was outspoken and a warrior like her.  He now worked as an emergency doctor rotating through three hospitals in the area.  "We can afford this lawsuit and others cannot, so I feel it is right to pursue it."

We talked a little more about the illness although she continued to be cryptic because of her upcoming lawsuit and a little about how she had captured her husband when they first met knowing this was the love of her life and then she hobbled back to her family as they began to leave the restaurant.

Why people feel like sharing with us I do not know.  Hubby and I realized we must be looking our age, as she automatically assumed we were retired.  It was Memorial Day...so we could have both been off work...if we looked like we had the stamina to still work...which I guess we did not!  But we did look like the kind of people that one could share plans with for an anonymous lawsuit.

Anyway, I know a little about the FDA and have a friend who had worked there.  I know how budget constraints over decades and political interference and the pressure from the pharmaceutical industry had compromised its mission so much, and I guess I now saw what might or might not have been the result of a rush to market drug in real life.

But then we really don't need a gov'ment interfering in our lives, do we?  Pharmaceutical panels are just as concerned for our health and safety as insurance panels...right?  (I have got to stop this anger or I am going to need drugs...Om mani padme hum....OMG!)

Life is in the Details

Do you remember the good 'ole days of blogging when people posted photos of their view from there desks, or their bedroom window or even the view of the inside of their refrigerator?  No?  Well, I do.  It was somewhat exciting getting to look inside some stranger's home and you didn't even have to get out of your PJs!  That ability to reach across the Internet and peek into someone's life was kind of odd and exotic, at least I thought so.  Then we became familiar with their cat photos, dog photos, garden shots...they were still nice, but not nearly so exotic anymore because we had started to know the writers like we knew our neighbors.  Familiarity may not breed contempt, but it does breed boredom at times.  Some bloggers still post photos of their meals and their shoes and their pets.  Some, like me, post photos of garden harvests and food processing.  Boy, that is an exciting venue for readers. (!)

Well, our weather here has been wet, wet like being in a 24 hour shower, wet like sitting in a leaky boat, wet like camping during the rainy season in South America.  When weather is moldy like this I try to avoid eating vast quantities of chips and salsa, drinking too much wine, or raiding the chocolate candy jar and screaming at Congresspersons on TV.  I instead pass the time re-organizing my life.

I once had a blog about the building of this house.  I printed out all of the posts and then promptly deleted the blog as I felt it could be a security issue if someone nefarious stumbled across it.  Anyway, if you once followed that blog, you will remember that I wanted a walk-in closet.  Yes, I was no longer working and would no longer need a career wardrobe.  Yes, I could sleep in and not be bumping butts with hubby as I did in our former "walk-in" closet, but I still wanted a REAL walk-in.  I wanted a closet that did not smell musty, was not dark and had enough room to be organized. 

Well, I got it.  Wait for it.....I built a 12 foot by 10.5 foot walk-in closet.  Of course, it stores bedding, gifts, boxed photos, and other junk as well as clothes.  One would think with a closet this big it would be much easier to be organized...one would think.  It takes about 6 to 8 months before the closet shelves become messy, too full, and things starting getting lost.

Here are some photos of the busy messy closet.

I 

I re-boxed, dusted, vacuumed and gave away a bunch of clothes for the church.  Then I organized what was left and ta-da!

You are awful quiet out there in blogger land...!  It IS neater and you will just have to take my word for it!  Doesn't it give you just a little thrill to be admitted into my closet?  Oh, the hole in the wall is where I dump our dirty clothes, there is a basket in the laundry room on the other side.

That Touch to the Heart from Bloggerland

I opened my laptop and clicked into that world of writers, weavers, warriors and world thinkers this morning. They post their photographs with stunning clarity, their arguments with stunning passion, their poetry with sweet love, and their emotions with bold and naked honesty.  They visit my screen with irregular regularity and come for so many reasons, both hidden and open.

Sometimes I have to follow them for a while before I really 'get' them. Unlike Renee Zellweger in Jerry Maguire, I am not always captured at "Hello.'  I may have to read between the lines or pick through archival posts to fill in the picture as I am a detail type of gal.

Blogger lost one of these members today.  He wrote poetry, the type I have to re-read to fully grasp the journey of words that he took me on.  He had met death many years ago when he was a young boy and that struggle haunted many of his poems.  His comments on my poetry and prose were so wonderfully gentle and dishonest, but I loved him for it.

Once again I say good-bye to someone who had reached through the screen and touched my heart with startling reality.  I am so hoping, Dave, that you have found a lovely little pub where all the poets who came before you can sit and talk about your poetry and toast to your successful writing.

Storytelling for the Strong of Spirit

The evening was quite late for this group of four old-timers, the oldest having crossed the 8th decade of his life just a few months ago.  They had reminisced about times together decades ago, stories about their children and grandchildren, health issues, and as the candles flickered lower the conversation turned to the issues of the here and now.

The Octogenarian, whom I will call Jack, twisted his empty wine glass and paused before saying, "Most people today do not understand how it really was years ago and why the atmosphere is so toxic in politics today.  They live in a bubble thinking it is just an angry joke and that it has to do with differences of opinion on how to do something."

The others sat back in their chairs knowing that the eldest of the group was going to begin story telling as he usually did when the energy of the conversation came to a pause.  He looked at each of them with his clear blue eyes and went back to his boyhood years growing up in Florida.

"Years ago when I was about eight my mother had sent me to town for some pickling supplies.  I hopped on my bicycle and headed to the local store.  This store was next door to our local bar, a wooden building that was two stories high.  The ground floor was a 'whites-only' bar and the top was 'blacks-only.'  I was in a hurry and had not put on my shoes when I left the house, and when I skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs on the side of the bar and jumped off the bike my foot came down on the sharp edge of the lid of a discarded sardine can.  I was in pain and starting to bleed and focused on what I should do...this day is crystal clear in my memory.   A shiny black top-less jeep with the Sheriff's star on the side pull up to the building near my discarded bike.  The Sheriff got out and reached into the back seat and retrieved a rifle of some sort.  He looked at me and told me to head on home and then walked to the balcony side of the upstairs bar where I had a clear view of three black men that were leaning over the railing and talking.  He raised the rifle and fired, and blew the head off of the black man closest to us.  He then walked back to his jeep and drove off.  I couldn't move for a minute, but soon hopped on my bike and raced home.  When I got home and told my mother what had happened she looked at me and shook her head and said, "Son, you are going to have to realize that things like this happen.'"

To give this story some context, Jack's father was the local physician and his mother was a community leader and a member of the suffragette movement.  What he was saying was that his mother knew what battles to choose to fight and what battles would be dangerous to enter.

Jack took a sip from his water glass and continued with a second story, "When I was a teenager I was riding a bus to visit my Aunt in another city.  We came to small town and a black man and a white woman got on the bus.  They found two seats in the middle of the bus and sat down.  People on the bus murmured and looked around since blacks were supposed to sit in the back of the bus.  We waited for the time for the bus to leave.  In a short time two men boarded the bus, grabbed the black man, who sat across from me, dragged him off the bus and threw him to the ground outside my window and proceeded to kick and beat him mercilessly.  Then the bus driver released the brake and we drove to the next town.  I learned later in the paper that the black man had died the next day, the white woman was his wife, and they were visiting from the Bahamas."  He said all this without emotion in his voice.

Then he turned to his wife and smiled.  "Remember, Meg, that winter when we were walking on the black beach and collecting sea urchin specimens for research?"  Meg nodded with resignation.

"It was a cold and windy day and the beach was bare of people.  Meg and I had been married only a short time.  We were filling a bag when the local park ranger walked up, gun in hand, and asked us what in the hell we were doing and did we not know this was a blacks-only beach?  We explained, as he raised the gun, that we were collecting specimens for science and that no one was beaching due to the cold weather.  He told us to get the hell off the beach and that if we were found on this beach again we would be banned from all beach parks in the State for life!"  Jack smiled wryly.  "Of course, this was an idle threat with no means of enforcement but the gun pointed in our direction made us scurry away apologetically."

Tabor, who had grown up in the mid-west and not seen much discrimination, perhaps because there were few to discriminate against, was having trouble breathing as these vignettes unfolded.

Yet, there was still another story to tell.  "A few years later Meg and I had made friends with this musician from a black college and he had invited us to a concert the college was giving to hear him play.  Meg loves music and so we agreed to go.  When we arrived at the concert hall we were directed to four seats a few rows back and in the center in the auditorium.  The President of this black college greeted us with his wife and sat with us!  We enjoyed the concert tremendously.  A week later we received a letter from OUR university Dean that said we would lose all privileges at our university if we attended any more events at the black college while we were employed at the University.  I still have the letter."

As you read this, you might be thinking...well, times change.  That may be true, but people do not.  One more story to tell.  When Jack and Meg were at a church reception following the funeral of a dear friend a few years ago, one of the grand old dames of the community was holding court from her chair.  When complaints started about this new President Obama and how awful it was that he got elected she raised her cup of punch for emphasis and this church going lady said clearly "Someone should just kill the damn ni**er."

Jack leads a life full of dramatic and interesting events and has no need to make up or enhance stories.  These are all true with the names changed to protect the innocent and may the guilty be forever damned.