Quote of the Day

Resfeber

Today I learned a new word.  Resfeber.  Someone had a sign for sale on etsy.com and this word was on that sign.  According to the definition, it means, "the restless race of a traveler's heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together; wanderlust".  (https://www.etsy.com/au/listing/175837801/resfeber-restless-traveler-dictionary?ref=market)

I feel like I have lived my life in this state for years.

I used to be a travel agent, and sometimes, I miss it.  That chapter in my life is closed right now, but I loved it when I was in the midst of it.  The picture above is Dubrovnik, Croatia. It's on the bucket list.  I think this is partly why I'm in real estate now.  It's mobile.  It's changing.  I get to meet people.  Instead of planning their vacations I'm helping them to move ahead in their futures, either by opening the door to their brand new home or sticking a For Sale sign on the one they're ready to leave behind.  

Life is like a Baskin Robbins.  There are too many flavors and not enough time to enjoy them all.  I don't believe in reincarnation; I think that this is our best and only shot at this life...and because of that, I've always felt a little panicked.  Some people are perfectly content to pick something and be really, really good at that something.  Someone may dedicate their lives to learning about 18th century England, and that's their thing.  Or they might love numbers, and so they work in a bank, and that fulfills them, the end.  I've never been wired that way.  I have a hard time understanding people who are.  That doesn't mean I don't appreciate those people and admire what they do, it means that I look at them and wonder, how do you do that?  Because I can't.  The closest I can come to experiencing everything is by writing, because you can live an infinite number of lives through the words you put on paper. 

I try to remind myself that this is just the way life is.  When I first became a real estate agent, my broker at the time, who is still a dear, sweet lady that everyone in town knows, sat me down and started personally training me in the fine art of salesmanship.  I never got to tell her how much I enjoyed that time, sitting in her cozy office and learning from someone who had been in the business for decades.  She had a different way of doing things that stuck with her for all of that time, and I admired it.  She asked me once what I wanted to learn.  "I want to know everything", I said.  She smiled and looked at me and shook her head.  "You can't ever know everything."

Perhaps not, just the way you can't eat everything at a buffet.  But you can get a nibble, and go back for seconds, and thirds.  As long as you save room for dessert.  That's the best part.  

Harvard Beets

(image from allrecipes.com)

Tonight, as an addition to a vegetable plate that I made, I made Harvard beets for the first time ever.  In fact, it was the first time I ever cooked a beet or made any kind of beet dish.

The thing is, I live at the tail end of North Central Texas, and we have more bubbas here than Billy Bob's on a Saturday night.  Meaning we are a meat and potato population.  More than half the people here own at least one or two cows, and then there are the people that are serious breeders.  Say the word "angus" and people are firing up their grill.  And these were the adjectives I grew up with in the kitchen:  deep fried, buttery, flaky. creamed, breaded, medium rare, and sugar.  Lots of sugar.

In continuing my voyage of food discovery, I picked up a beet in the produce section.  It's ridiculous to say I felt daring, but I did, because I can't ever recall, in my entire life, a grandmother, or in-law, or my mother, cooking this vegetable.  So in a spirit of rebellion, I put it in my cart.  I felt better at the check-out when the girl said, "Ma'am, what is this called again?"  And I tried to squelch that superior feeling that rose up in me when I said, "Oh, that's a beet."

I found a recipe for Harvard Beets on allrecipes.com and it seemed simple enough.  I chose that recipe because it's a very old recipe for this vegetable; no one is even sure of its origins.  It really doesn't matter. The point is, I made it, it turned out well, and now I feel like I was missing out.  Bonus:  Logan ate all the beets I put on his plate.  I love it when he eats fresh vegetables, because then I know he's not getting any strange red dye that actually does make him go berserk.  He's in his best mood when his food is the healthiest.  I think that can be said for other people, as well.

This experience made me think of all the other neglected vegetables out there that I've not so much batted an eye at.  How do you cook a rutabaga?  What about potato-leek soup?  I heard that was good.  And what are those cacti for?  Hispanic people buy them a lot...what do they do with it?

So, because these are questions I don't have an answer to, I've decided to treat the grocery store..especially the produce section...a lot like I treat books.  Try everything.  If it's bad or boring, don't finish it. Throw it out and don't waste time on it.  Keep the good stuff.

And then there's also that feeling you get when show up at check out and your cart is laden when fruits and veggies.  You want to say, Look At ME.  I am BEING HEALTHY.  What they don't see is the chocolate and cookies hidden underneath the Romaine.  Hey, lettuce has to be good for something.  ;)

Quote of the Day

"For love changes everything, and forces us into lives we never imagined we might lead." - Alice Hoffman, The Museum of Extraordinary Things

"The past cannot tie me in knots, nor can it reach for me and cause me to drown." - Alice Hoffman, The Museum of Extraordinary Things

Get Some Help

I didn't post a picture with this entry, because any picture I could find would probably be too graphic.

For the second time this month, I saw a news article about a dog (in this case it was a two month old puppy) that had a rubber band wrapped around its muzzle and had to be rushed to a hospital for emergency care.  The picture was horrifying.  It wasn't something that I went looking for.  It popped up on my news feed on Facebook, and I found myself getting really angry.  This came a couple of weeks after the story on the female pit bull puppy who was found with duct tape around her muzzle.  She also needed specialized care and is now, finally, eating and recovering.

I'm not a crazy animal rights activist.  I'm not extreme.  But I have zero tolerance or patience for people who abuse animals, children, those with disabilities, or anyone else who is in some way helpless to stop what is being done to them.  There seems to be some sort of disconnect with people who engage in these types of acts.  They think it's funny, or they're on some kind of power trip.

Listen, it's not funny.  It's not attractive, and it doesn't make you more of a man (or woman).  If you do this, you are sick.  Period.  You need help.

Father's Day

It's Father's Day and I miss my dad.

My dad always encouraged me to write.  He was always interested in what I was writing at the time and he was always bringing home Writer's magazines.  In a lot of ways he really fueled that passion for me.  He also came to almost every band concert, stood up and cheered for me regardless of my embarrassment, and always called me his "Little Doll".

When I was pregnant with my first child, he decided that I must need some clothes (I did) and he took me shopping.  He bought me a red dress.  Just like he did before I was born.  I think I never really grew up in his eyes.

He loved the Three Stooges and was adept at doing the "curly shuffle".  He loved the Dallas Cowboys, vanilla ice cream mixed with an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup, and dogs.  He didn't like the beach but he loved the mountains and almost every summer, he took us all for a trip into the Colorado Rockies.  I think that was where my love of geology was born.  Almost every place we camped and every gift shop we went into had some kind of gem or mineral laying around.  He instilled in me a love of the outdoors and of travel because of those summertime forays into the mountains.

He liked fishing and would sit in his armchair on the weekends with a paper in his hands while a fishing show was on.  I never understood the appeal of watching fishing on tv, but now that I have a fourteen year old son and River Monsters comes on, I get it.

He taught me how to bowl.  I still like to go bowling even though I don't have the opportunity to do it often.

Probably the most important thing my dad did for me was teach me, through his example, that it's never too late to learn.  He worked as a lineman for TXU and decided he wanted more, so he went to school at night and got a Bachelor's Degree in Engineering.  He continued working towards his master's and became an electrical engineer at TXU.  He loved his job.  Designing sub-stations and working on the nuclear power plant were a couple of projects that he talked about often.  He was wicked smart and lived up to his potential in that regard.  Because of him and because of that example, I know I can live up to mine, too.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.  I love you and I miss you.

Quote of the Day

Dear Pessimist and Optimist,

While you were standing there arguing about whether the glass was half-empty or half-full, I drank it.

Sincerely,

The Opportunist