Bittersweettoast

It's funny what we remember from our youth. Why some memories stick while others disappear does not always make sense. Take, for instance, a memory I have from second grade. Mrs. Netherby, who honestly was one of my favorite teachers, asked us to write what we thought about the Vietnam War. The Vietnam War! In second grade!! Perhaps because I was always very young for my grade, or perhaps because my friends and I did not discuss things like this while playing kick the can, I honestly had no thoughts at the ripe old age of seven as to what the Vietnam War even was. Fortunately, I sat across the aisle from Angela Johnson who was really smart. As I stared at my paper, wondering how I was going to start, let alone complete, this assignment, she was busy writing away.  A quick glance told me that she believed that war was bad. Now here's where my memory is particularly sharp all these years later. I thought to myself, "If I write the exact sa...

I have something to share about myself that will probably surprise you. But before I divulge this information, I must tell you about a small success I had recently. I was in a liquor store in search of an ingredient for my latest drink. I know, I know...this flies in the face of the resolution I made in the Kitchen Gods post, but hopefully you will ultimately be on my side with this decision. Anyway, there I was searching among all the different bottles when I overheard the store employee helping a woman find some brandy for cooking. She pointed her towards a type that came in a bottle far larger than your airplane variety, and the woman said, "Yikes, that's big. Are there any drinks you can make with brandy?" Other than suggesting a Brandy Alexander, the employee was kind of stumped. And so I stepped up and offered up my sidecar recipe, history and all.  I kind of shocked myself, to be perfectly honest. I'm not the type to remember a joke, even ten minutes after it...

Many moons ago I set out on an adventure to bike around New Zealand. Looking back all these years later, I realize how Lewis and Clark it was of me to set off by myself to such unknown territory on a bike I had not ridden all that much with a tool kit I had barely touched. Such is the naivety of youth that allows us to head off on such an adventure without any second thoughts about the "what ifs". Two days into my expedition, having  consulted  my "Cycle Touring in the North Island of New Zealand" book, I left the small village of Kaitaia to ride up to Cape Reinga, the northern most point on the island. Surrounded by beach and water on all sides, I envisioned paradise. What I had not envisioned was the condition of the road out to Cape Reinga. As I poured over this book in the weeks leading up to my departure, I often came over the words "sealed" and "unsealed" as descriptions for roads. I figured that unsealed roads were ...

I'm on a new mission. No longer will bags of produce be pulled from my crisper dripping in brown ooze that only comes from buyer neglect. I'm determined to find a use for that little bit of feta cheese that lingers in the cheese drawer just waiting to get moldy. And I vow to use up every heel of every loaf of bread I ever buy again. I will  boldly go where I seldom go and force myself to regularly use up what's in my refrigerator before returning to the grocery story. I will think more creatively about what I can put together with the ingredients on hand as opposed to pulling out a new recipe and adding unwanted food to an already crowded refrigerator. Oh, these vows sound so good, but they are so difficult for me because I am a recipe kind of gal. Blame it on my mom who created terrific meals but was wedded to her cookbooks. I am not genetically predisposed to winging it in the kitchen. Which is why I marvel at Lynne Rossetto Kasper who hosts NPR's show The Splendid ...

Remember those ads for Evelyn Wood speed reading classes? The ones where people simply turned the pages in the books they were reading and voila! The books were fully read and comprehended. Those ads always appealed to my need for project completion. When I start working on something, I like to keep working until it is finished. No interruptions. I marvel at people who have five or six books on their nightstands that they are reading simultaneously. How can you possibly do this? To me that feels like cheating those characters out of their due respect while having a quick fling with someone else in a completely different story. Maybe that's a bit harsh, and maybe I just need to embrace the art of multitasking. But remember I'm 50 years old and old dogs...well, some just like to go one book at a time. Last December I set a goal: 50 drinks in my 50th year. Research, concoct, photograph, and blog. I sit at 21, and I am well past the halfway mark. This does not sit well with me....

When you've had a parent struggle at the end of life with Alzheimer's or dementia, you don't take your own memory glitches lightly. We all have them, but after my father died, I found myself looking more carefully at my own brushes with memory loss. So imagine my dismay last week when I accidentally left my sister at the airport to fend for herself and find her way to our house all because I had written on my calendar that she was coming in on Monday instead of Sunday. I was totally thrown out of whack by this major scheduling snafu. We laughed, I sighed deeply, and then moved on. Monday morning I dragged her to my semi-annual dentist appointment. I know what you're thinking: your sister came 3,000 miles to see you and you dragged her to the dentist???! Well, in all fairness, she only made these reservations on July 1st and rearranging those semi-annual visits is as easy as booking dinner with the queen. She assured me that she was happy just spen...

There's a lot that I love about being a parent, but there is one stage I would like to delete from the parenting handbook: driver's ed. I thought that round two would be easier. I'd be an experienced passenger ready to calmly teach my son the rules of the road. Actually, who am I kidding? At the ripe old age of nine, Nelson was kicked off a go-cart course. This should have been my first clue that driving with him might be a little different.  I blame that one on Mario Cart, the video game that allows young boys to practice driving with reckless abandon. As I watched him go around the go-cart course, the look in his eyes told me he was trying to put to good use all that Mario had taught him. Let's just say that Mario's techniques are a little different from what the Department of Licensing is looking for.  My son learned that the hard way after running off the go-cart track one too many times. When the owner came storming onto the track and pointed to the exit, he su...