Indomitable Spirit

The late afternoon sun was warm, but the cool bay breeze trumped as Chayse and I huddled together at the track meet. Absentmindedly, I scanned the field pausing to watch the different events, when I noticed a few kids were approaching the finish line nearby. I watched as the leaders crossed the line followed by others merely seconds behind. Then a coach quietly commented, "We have one more..." I turned to look for the final runner as did everyone else. A young man was cruising along with incredible proficiency, maneuvering his legs with the support of his walker at incredible speed. As he passed, the stands erupted, every coach paused to clap and follow his progress, and the most beautiful moment was watching his peers from every team cheer with all their hearts. As he neared the finish line, his momentum never wavered. He crossed the finish line and his smile spread across his face like a full rainbow in all its beauty.

Perspective

Being an auntie means looking at the world from a child's perspective. Who knows what we might find?



Being an auntie means swooping an up unsuspecting baby girl and "getting" the soft baby belly and listening to the delightful shrieks!



Oh, I miss her already.

Though I hugged my big kids (whom I missed too!) extra tight last night because the baby girl reminded me that time is fleeting and every moment is special!

And all these photos? Not one of me with my sister...how did that happen?

Distracted? Never!

Actually, for us, time just stands still--eternally youthful! Trust me...

Disclaimer: Proud auntie posting ahead.

"Ummm...where is my mommy?"



"There she is!"



I simply can't resist all the cuteness!



She loves me in all my craziness and silliness. She shrieks in delight. She tilts her head and blinks flirtatiously. She peeks around the corner looking for me.

She melts my heart.

Luckily, we topped off these sweet moments yesterday with ice-cream!

All in an Auntie's Day

A four hour delay yesterday left me a frustrated traveler...particularly because I was still sitting at San Francisco International Airport a mere 15 minutes from my home.

However, it is all better today. Just add a bit of strawberry to that cute curly-haired girl and give the girl a phone to hear the sweetest hello!



Now this is serious business, so listen closely...



Then for the highlight of my day...kisses (that move more quickly than the camera)...followed by a smile to melt auntie's heart!



Being an aunt is such a rough job--I love it!

Anticipation

I feel like a little girl waiting for something special--daydreaming, waiting impatiently, but trying to be patient.

In the morning I am flying to Indiana.

The vacation destination of the Midwest, right?

People don't even know how to respond to my enthusiasm. I also suspect they really don't even know where Indiana is.

I know it isn't an exotic local, and I don't care.

I am going to wrap my arms around the familiar muggy, warm, spring air...

breathe in the scent of fresh rain...soak up the colorful blossoms nestled amidst everything green...

AND sneak up on a little, curly-haired girl and twirl her in the air...and play on the swing set...while chatting with my sister for hours.

I simply cannot wait.

The best vacation for the heart is wrapped in the familiarity of family!

It is the little things I miss about all the communities I have been a part of through the years.

I miss Kowalski's grocery store in Minneapolis/St. Paul.

I miss the fresh honey from a Montana neighbor.

I miss the little park in Whitewood where Nikela would swing as a baby amidst the big oak trees.

I miss the smell of fresh cut alfalfa from my childhood.

Tonight, I miss the nachos from Qdoba. The kids and I would share...savoring their three cheese queso...to celebrate the little things.

Tonight NIkela placed first in high jump at her first track meet, and Kiahra was selected as the coveted dance soloist for her ballet recital.

So, you see, I just want our Qdoba tradition tonight, but the restaurant is not here. *sigh*

Cooking

I have an endless collection of wonderful recipes. So many, in fact, that sometimes I forget as I gaze into the refrigerator trying to decide what to make for dinner.

My refrigerator is full of seasonal fresh vegetables and fruits from the farmer's market.

So what is my dilemma?

Olivier Said and Chef Mikec address it perfectly in the first few lines of their book, Kitchen on Fire, "Let's face it, America is addicted to recipes. No generation has been better equipped for greatness in the kitchen than today's home cook. We have the tools, the finest farm-fresh and imported ingredients, access to an unparalled wealth of how-to information, and a million or so recipes."

And then they pose the question, "Yet how many of us can compose a delicious dish from scratch?"

Honestly, this is my problem. I do not have the confidence to merely create. If I don't have the recipe in hand and all the ingredients, I feel like the task is overwhelming. I stand and look in the refrigerator calculating all the ingredients I am missing and dread another trip to the grocery store because so many of my recipes do not take advantage of seasonal produce or else it combines non-seasonal produce. It is overwhelming and crazy. I spend hours trying to find healthy recipes that include the ingredients I have.

Frankly, it is time I do not have, and suddenly the kitchen I used to love feels suffocating.

Last summer, I watched my cousin create glorious food in her kitchen. She chops. She stirs. She tastes. She tosses in a bit of this and bit of that all while chatting comfortably. It is like watching an artist. Afterwards, I am awestruck by the end result, and I am left wondering how she really did it? She makes it look so easy.

I went home inspired to use my recipes as guidelines, but I soon returned to my comfort zone carefully following my recipes.

Then last fall, my aunt was reminiscing about my grandmother's cooking. She didn't even use recipes, she merely used her hands to measure, and the end result was utterly masterful! Just the memory of her food makes me smile. As a child, I remember traipsing out to the garden with her. The lush green plants were heavy with produce. Brusquely, she would begin harvesting with a knowing snap here and there. Soon her arms and mine were full. Then back in the kitchen she would go, and I would scamper off to play, but slowly the tantalizing aroma of cooking food would waft from the kitchen and we would drift back into the savory kitchen. Our little tummies were hungry and grandma's food never failed to satisfy--even her green vegetables were good!

With these things mulling in my mind, I was browsing the food section in the paper one morning when the "addicted to recipes" quote above popped out at me, so I proceeded to read about the cooking school across the bay that is trying to revolutionize the way we cook by teaching the science of cooking. The foundation is built upon understanding the scientific reactions in the different methods of cooking. As I flip through their book (which I promptly found at the library), I am fascinated about what I have already learned in the beginning chapters and curious what will unfold in the pages ahead.

The potential freedom to be creative once I understand the formulas is lifting the oppressive bonds of cooking in my mind.

So, I sit here reading what my grandmother probably already understood about cooking at a young age and contemplating the irony that I could have learned more from her when I was younger if I hadn't thought I already knew so much more.

Cars

Three months after my arrival in California, I realized that one must be vigilant in watching for luxury cars because the drivers are apt to cut you off, dive bomb into lanes, and fail to yield. Basically, I am not awed by the expensive cars. I am just trying to stay alive, and their distinctive designs are like a flashing caution light. (Did I mention that luxury cars here don't even include the Lexus--those movies where everyone is driving $100,00+ cars, well, the producers are just mimicking their California reality.)

Then I read stories in the news that give me nightmares. Last fall, a young student was killed in the cross walk by a BMW driving teacher.

Well, yesterday a Berkley graduate student affirmed my observation after two years of detailed research--even down to the car models.

I haven't even been here two years...

I'm just sayin'...