Back again, so let's get cookin'

 So...uh...long time no see.

Ya know, every time I say that I'm back, I really hope it is true. It is unlikely that I will ever be as prolific here as I was back in those good/horrible old days, but I would like to publish again regularly. I am going back to school for a Masters in Biology, but really it's in order to transition from lab schlep to technical writer or something similar. So, if for no other reason, I should be looking for ways to exercise my general audience-writing muscles. 

I was sitting with some friends yesterday on shabbos. I mentioned that I had written about such-and-such here in this blog. "You wrote a blog? I would be interested to read it." "So would I!" "Yes, me too, I will have to look it up after shabbos." None of these were women I was particularly close with 10 years ago; some I have only met since then. The woman I met most recently is interested in several things that used to be a much bigger part of my life. She makes me excited about them again. 

Remember the old rhyme?:

"Make new friends, but keep the old;

  One is silver, and the other gold."

I get that the old friends are supposed to be more precious, and that is why they are "gold." But I was thinking of another way this could be understood: new friends are "silver" in the manner that silver is practically more useful, while gold's value is more ornamental. Silver plates a mirror, silver works as a conductor, silver has use is flatware and goblets, etc. New friends (or old friends we haven't seen in a long time) add new ideas, and bring out old and new from within us in a way that comfortable old friends may not. Or maybe not, I dunno, just an idea as I was driving around today.

I'd like to put something more substantial in here today. How about my attempt to change my cooking habits to save a little money: Like a lot of people, I built up a nice little sum the first months of Covid by buying almost nothing (well, after that first Passover, anyway) and cooking a great deal of our food from scratch. I always cooked most of our meals, but now I wasn't buying snacks or bread or nearly as much frozen veggie-meat substitute. But then again, I was home a couple days a week (I am considered an essential worker, so I was always going in at least a couple days), and I hadn't started my graduate work. Soon I was back to the lab everyday, and I was busier, and my normal cooking rhythms returned. This rhythm includes a lot of impulse buying. I usually enjoy grocery shopping when it's someplace fun, not just the supermarket. So when I'm in Trader Joe's, or a little market in Chinatown, or at a cute little specialty shop, I'm likely to buy something unusual or experimental. But if it is not a ready-to-eat item, it often sits in the cabinet. So every year when I pack up the kitchen contents for Pesach, I put away a bunch of these packaged good, usually grains or jarred and canned products. And then they never come out of the "Chometz closet", as the hall closet has come to be known. 

Well the younger boys are now just about out of the house. The youngest will be out of state next year. I'm cooking for just me, and I am more willing to experiment, so I have been taking those stored items out of the closet. Kasha, quinoa, polenta and garbanzo flower; coconut milk and tamarind paste; spice mixtures. Plus a bunch of stuff like corn flakes and mashed potato-mix and such I took from people who were giving away from their free boxes (ugh, there is a whole topic I could talk about). I'm trying to enjoy the challenge and satisfaction of using it up, and it works to some extent. Here's a quick tip: Trader Joe's Green Goddess seasoning mix is great for a quick way to liven up almost any grain. 

Okay, this is WAY boring, but I got it down, and I pressing PUBLISH. Hello to everyone new - go look at the old stuff, it's juicier than this post.

A zoom meeting, in verse

 

The newlyweds give me the best news a parent can receive

and I have nothing to respond.

I sit silent, deadpan, as her mother asks

“Do you know what that picture is?”

 

“Yes,” and I suppose I change to a pleased expression,

blurt out some benign comment.

The chatter through the computer speaker returns,

While the screen shifts from that iconic, indecipherable wedge of black and white.

 

I am not there.

I am watching from far, too far away,

Miles and years and lives away.

 

I suppose I could have reprised my expression of four months ago.

That day that I kept too busy to be so self-absorbed.

I sat with the girl who takes, and yet returns my son,

Greeting strangers and friends “what a blessing this is.”

 

In my tailored gown, black gloves and shaped eyebrows

I filled my head with vanity, better than envy.

Danced and clapped and enthused through my mask

for the lively couple, glorying in their evening, stark in their black and white.

 

The crooked, overwide, plastered-on smile,

appears once, and again, and once more in the wedding albums.

They are handed out now, mine still miles and hours away.

 

The uncles-to-be are proud and excited in their role.

Their family is growing,

Bringing more connections and tiny spirits to touch

soon: “Do you know whose little toe this is?”

 

How can one be so jealous of her child? I would do anything

for them, but still I want more, I want mine.

My closest friends whisper “Happy, happy, it should all be good!”

Because they don’t live in disappointments, in black and white.

Yummy is good, right?

 

Last night I got home from work followed by shopping and not finding what I wanted and in a bit of a funk, so I wanted to cook something a bit special, something fun.  In the refrigerator I had beautiful eggplants that I had bought just the day before. I sliced the eggplant, salted the eggplant, breaded the eggplant, fried the eggplant, packed away half in wax paper, and placed the other half in a baking pan with tomato sauce and cheese to bake.

Po came home after a very long day at school. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

“I just had a snack; there is eggplant in the oven for dinner.”

“Woah, thank you, looks great. What is this stuff in the bowl?”

“Oh, that’s leftover raw egg, to make the eggplant.”

“There’s egg in the eggplant??”

“To batter the slices.”

“You battered the slices??”

“… Are you just being comical? YES, I battered the slices, I fried the eggplant, I baked it with sauce and cheese and spices. That’s how you cook eggplant.”

“When I make eggplant, I just cut it, smear with pizza sauce and cheese, and bake…”

 

So he starts eating while I am occupied elsewhere. I came back to find a couple small slices left in the pan. They were yummy.

I told Po there is still more fried eggplant in the ‘fridge, if he wants to have some more.

When I clean up before bed, I see all the eggplant is gone except one small, lonely slice.

I think to myself, “What happened? I did nothing this evening except cook this eggplant, and it’s gone, I have nothing to show for it. What a waste!”

But as I thought about it this morning, that’s a foolish, misleading way to think about it. Maybe I wanted some leftovers, but the eggplant is gone because it was GOOD, Po enjoyed it, it was consumed. A true waste would be if it was bad, and no one wanted much, and it stayed in the refrigerator until it went moldy. Neither would it have been good to make huge quantities of this oily delicacy; it’s really much better in moderation – I would have been annoyed if Po and I had gluttonous amounts over several meals.

“You should be proud and pleased,” I thought. And for a few pleasant moments I was, as I had my toast and coffee for breakfast… but that is another story for another day.

Early Blooms

 This beautiful amaryllis blooms every year in front hallway at work. In most things aesthetic, I go for delicate and understated, but I just love big bold showy flowers. I love all those big bulb flowers: lilies, irises, hyacinth, gladiolas. And hedge roses, magnolias, hibiscus, anemones, poppies. Okay, I could go on and on. (Maybe I should go into botany so I can play with flowers all day. I have no idea what kind of research is done in botany.) I was recently helping design flower arrangements for a special event, and the woman of the day said she wanted bright, happy pastels. I thought about what flowers fit that description, and searched for "bouquet coral ranunculus chrysanthemum snapdragon." 

 So lovely...sigh. When I go to the produce market and pick out flowers, they rarely have such a wide selection, and I would have to get at least 10 different types to make anything so varied. But I can dream.

The only way I remember the name "amaryllis" is from the character of the Mayor's daughter in The Music Man. Also, the only way I remember lobelia is from Bilbo Baggins' cousin. 

That's a good car game - name all the flowers you can think of that are women's names. Or just name all the flowers you can think of.

Yeah, it's true, I like science.

 I'm taking 2 classes this semester: 

Pathological Aspects of Disease, a survey course of pathology.

Principles of Career Management - Diverse BioMedical Careers, in which the great majority of the students are trying to figure out what careers they want to pursue other than physician or laboratory investigator.

I was somewhat hesitant to take pathology - I really don't like disturbing, icky images. But I was very interested in learning the causes and manifestations of disease. So far all my courses have been mostly focused on microbiology, so I was interested to take a class that was focused on systemic clinical issues.

 Like almost everything else, classes this year have not been as fun or engaging as previously because it is all online. The Pathology class is at the worst end of the spectrum (for me, anyway) - pre-recorded lectures, several online "discussion questions" per module, and a very fluid assignment schedule, where everything just needs to be turned in before corresponding midterm or final exam.

As I was doing the self assessment exercises for the Career Development class, I began to question whether I had a serious desire to stay in the realm of biology at all. Classes were soooo boring. I have to really force myself to get through the lectures - shouldn't I find the subject more fulfilling to keep it as my CHOSEN career, not just the one I fell in to. Should I even continue pursuing degree in biomedical sciences? 

Then yesterday we finally had a live zoom meeting to review for exam. 2 straight hours of clinical vignettes. It was so much fun, I just loved it! It reminded me of a friend who describes several games as her favorites because they "tickle that certain entertainment part of my brain." I can't explain why, just really enjoy a true biology lesson. I left the class really excited to take the exam and continue with the course. Now I need to find a way to carry that excitement through another half semester of pre-recorded lectures. I did get a study partner, although she is not currently in the same class, but she said she would appreciate reviewing the subject and vocabulary. And I need to interact with the prof more often, even if it makes me look like a toady groveling for grades.

So now I have two subject that interest me: pathological aspects of disease AND psychology of live human interaction in engagement and learning. I'm sure there's a ton that has been written about the latter topic recently. Unfortunately, it will probably have to wait quite a while before I can get to it.

So much science, so little time...

Happy Funny Pretty Cake Post

I feel like the vibe here is too heavy, so before going on to Good Avice, Part II, let's take a break for some cake and comic relief.

My former neighbors, (still current great friends) were about to move to their new home, and were having a last hurrah in the old place for the husband's birthday. Over the years, he had asked me to make many cakes for his wife for her birthday or their anniversary. So finally the wife asks me to make a cake for HIM - I think she knows how much I generally don't like being asked, but I was THRILLED. "Could you do a T.I.M.E. Stories theme?" Can I do I time stories theme?!?!? Oh, I am a-plannin' the craziest, coolest, best cake ever, for my board game-playing, geeky, bestest dad, cartoon watching fabulous neighbor of mine. And with Moo, who has practically grown up in their house, we plan and design and print and bake, and show the birthday boy how much he means to us:

Yes, it's all cake (except for the deck of cards in the top right,

 candy tokens on the left)

Sample character card

Sample location card

...and so on. Good times.

Good Advice, Part I

Good Advice is just the same as bad advice so sings Allan Sherman

Okay, as you can tell from my last post, this has been a particularly bad time. I know everyone's first assumption would be that it is part of the global COVID despondency, but I would have to disagree, at least that is not the prevailing cause. It's more of the chronic abuse from the ex, coupled with the ugly political jungle, that is just blooming out of control in the current environment.

So while I was boiling over with disappointment and anger, I lashed out on FB. General post:"I hate you all."
When that got a bunch of stupid generic "Sorry you're hurting, what happened?" I couldn't see any reason to contain myself. "I don't want to hear your stupid comments. You could have helped at anytime, could have talked to ex and told him his behavior was unacceptable, But all you holier-than-thous hid behind your excuse of 'not my business', so too late, definitely not your business now."
And of course, I got more insulting, idiotic advice, "You may be depressed. It's no shame to get help. You should go find some help."
 Idiots. "Oh gee, you are so clever to have seen that. How could I have missed it all these decades?"
 Instead of subjecting you to a further sarcastic rant of my own, I'll link to a great article in McSweeney's by Jen Fremond.

A little while back, I was hosting a young woman who lives a few miles away, who wanted to stay in the community for shabbos. I don't know her story in detail, and it's not my place to tell it if I did. Enough to say she made some poor choices, and is now in a very difficult situaltion, trying to just keep her head above water, and stay sane and responsible though the next few years until she can hopefully try to improve her situation. She has made that maddening, tortuous trip though public and charity social services that seems to end so very often at "we are so sorry, but we can't really offer any help to you." We stayed up late on Friday night, as she told me about her latest attempts to get her certification in her career field, but between child care costs, tuition, and the buracracy of public assistance, she had to put it on hold indefinitely, with the risk that it will be take so long that she will be required to start again from the beginning. I just sat and listened. She clearly didn't want advice, even if I had any useful advice. She just wanted to be heard, and to find a little sympathy and compassion.
The next day, we went out for lunch at a mutual friend. another woman at the table is perpetually giving unhelpful advice. She is definitely a nice, well-meaning woman, so I know it's ugly of me to take such a nasty view, but anyway... For example, after my lab closed, and I was job-hunting, someone must have brought up the subject, Ms. Advice goes on for several minutes, "you know there are a lot of Universities in the city, have you looked for jobs there? They probably have some information on their computer sites, maybe you could try that? Also, I think there are some pharmaceutical companies around, have you thought of looking into that? Have you applied for unemployment benefits? You may be eligible..." It was so horrible having to nod and smile, "oh, yes, good idea, maybe I'll look into that." When you are in a difficult situation, and someone asks you "Have you had the sense to try the obvious yet?" it is beyond hair-pulling frustrating - even if the interrogator has no idea how inane the question.
So I know what is about to start, when I hear the worthless suggestions start hurling toward my houseguest: "Have you tried going to city social services for help with childcare? I'm sure the Jewish agencies must have educational programs available..." And then someone else at the table starts to chime in, and I just have to step in and stop this right there! "Those may be useful suggestions, but Houseguest is more knowledgeable about all the available programs and all the requirement than any of us, since she actually lives in her life and has been wading through all these programs for months." And Ms. Advice and the others looked unpleasantly rebuked, but apologized, and move away from the topic. And my houseguest was obviously relieved. And I was proud to be so bitchy.

I still haven't gotten to my main point here - that story above was just supposed to be an intro to the actual topic. I've gone on too long already, so let me post this before I lose my steam as I have for the past couple years, and I'll leave with
...TO BE CONTINUED