Rest assured.... I have not forgotten...duties of life call...and I shall be writing again very soon...

Monsieur Sprout...

My relationship with Monsieur Sprout began when I was very young.  We have had many years together and the bittersweet trials of a love/hate relationship.  Monsieur Sprout would usually be a dinner guest once if not twice a week in my family home and to be perfectly frank, the only one who ever really wanted him there was my mother.  Now if you are ever fortunate enough to dine at my mother’s table you better come prepared for a delicious meal that consists of at LEAST three vegetables. Growing up my family never seemed to miss an evening meal together and like stated already... never did a week go by where the oh so dreaded Brussels Sprout showed its ugly green leafy head.  

Reasons for this nemesis always being welcomed back can be blamed on the strong British influence of my mother’s homeland or the simple fondness she had of this veggie. I blame the strictness of my families table manners.  Propriety while dining has always been upheld to the nth degree.  With that being said... it was required that at least one Brussels be consumed before we could leave the table.  

It should be noted that my brothers and I made many diligent attempts to avoid this terror of all vegetables.  Claiming to have already eaten the one, although my parents seemed to have a radar for knowing this fib. Dousing them in gravy, salt, pepper, creamed corn… just anything else on your plate to avoid the terrible taste.  Countless endeavors were made to slyly pass it on to the eager dog waiting for a handout under the table, but even they seemed to know that this item was not something worth begging for. 

My favorite attempt would have to be the cleverness my brother Andrew made in taking an extra helping of mashed potatoes in order to bury the sprout.  In fact I do believe this was the only successful evasion ever accomplished of a Brussels.  It did not take too long for my father to catch on.  Inspections of potatoes soon followed.  

It  takes a bit of maturing of one’s mind and one's palate to realize there is truth to "mother knows best".  Until recently my relationship with Monsieur Sprout has taken a turn.  I have learned to actually really like these little cabbages.  I find them better when they are small, cut in half, steamed to perfection, and with the aid of a little butter and salt & pepper they are delightful.  So go ahead… give them another try.

Life's little annoyances...

I will be the first to admit that I no longer enjoy my birthday.  As a child you wait and wait for that special day that comes only but once a year.... you know... YOUR DAY! Alas now it only represent yet another year passing and another digit being added onto your fading youth.  And yes I am well aware this is vanity at it's finest!

One of the only saving graces I have observed with this ever so unfortunate aging process, would be my virtue in patience growing ever so slightly.  Mind you, I do reiterate slightly.  That being said... I will admit I keep an ongoing list of little things in life that truly test this very important quality that one should process.

So far... little things in life that I find extremely irritating:

• Trying to plug a cord into an outlet and having to flip the cord cause the fat and thin metal prongs don’t match up.
• Filling out a form online and the cursor doesn’t automatically go to the next box on your social security or phone number.
• People who insist on putting their change back into their purse or wallet and therefore making your wait in the grocery store line that much longer.
• People who insist on examining their bank receipt and then have to put their money away while you're in the line of the ATM and in turn, make your wait that much longer.
• Someone sitting in your usual unassigned seat in class or church.
• People who don’t know how to use the passing lane.
• Dropping a piece of toast and always having it land butter side down.
• Waiting for nail polish to dry.
• Those who take the elevator for anything under 2 floors.
• The sound of dogs licking their paws!

Mind you the list could go on and on, all depending on my mood.  But all this being said, one of the greatest sensations in life is being able to surprise yourself.  My patience is not one of my greatest virtues but when I do catch a glimpse of a slight improvement I get a sense of accomplishment... and with that just being said, I have  something else to add to this list... feeling older!

“Patience is a virtue, Possess it if you can, Seldom found in woman, Never found in man”

A stranger I use to know...

It never fails that your past will always end up finding you at some point in your future.  After running into an old beau that I had not seen or talked to in years I found myself walking away from our brief encounter very pensive.  Not in the way that one might think after running into an old flame.  There were no feelings of “what if” but rather it was more of a sensation in thinking there goes a stranger I use to know so well.   

Relationships are truly one of life’s greatest puzzlements.  How is it you can spend years getting to know someone inside and out, seeing them at their best and worst, and then one day it can all end and the realm of strangers sets in.

  

What is there to be said about leopards not changing their spots?  So many believe that change is something that is inevitable in us, and yet my brief encounter with my past proved that the person standing in front of me was a stranger.  He had changed.  So what is this contradiction about?  Perhaps the answer is... it just fits right in with the confusion that embodies relationships?

I can’t say where I am really going with this entry other than for those who are not afraid of their past keep you heads held high.  For those that would rather avoid it… I suggest keeping your eyes on the sidewalk… cause it’s always when you least expect it on some random Tuesday afternoon, while you're carrying an awkward bright blue rain barrel… and voilà...  it’s upon you.

and yes... this is exactly what it looked like!

After all, who does not dream of returning home? ...

set fire to the stars...

Every Christmas, well rather any time of year really, you can find A Child’s Christmas in Wales being played in my family’s house. This 1987 adaptation of Dylan Thomas’ poem never seems to grow old with my family members, say my dad. I implore anybody who might have a soft side for the nostalgic or just enjoys looking back on remembered years to make it a point to see this movie.

But I digress from my true point of topic…

A few weeks ago I happened across a movie, The Edge of Love. Being the hopeless romantic that I am I was instantly hooked. Much to my surprise and pleasure I came to find out that this film was loosely base upon Dylan Thomas. Only knowing a touch of this poet’s personal life I was intrigued by the way his character in the movie was portrayed and found myself immersed in his poetry once again after the movie had ended. Besides the true raw genius that is Thomas’ poetry, the film caught an interesting side of the 1940’s. I found myself enamored by the red lips, circle skirts and thick heels of the time. But it was more than that. Although the fashion of the time was heading towards a masculine inspired direction, the women still embraced a sense of femininity. There is something to be said about lady like qualities. They are mannerisms that I see very lacking in today's society but should still be embraced and esteemed.

Again… this film by no means is anything of brilliance and besides being somewhat melodramatic towards the end, there are some very simple qualities worth taking note of and if nothing else... take pleasure in the complexity of Thomas' poetry.

Love In The Asylum

A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds

Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds

Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.

She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies

She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.

And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.

More Thomas's poetry...

... and it is snowing again

The snow is falling. The latte is brewed. And the book awaits...

It has become such an irritation, much like it does around this time every year, of hearing others complaints about the in-climate weather. I will admit it takes much of my patients to just allow the grumbles to be acknowledge but really I would like to just say... 'tis Indiana in February.... what do you possibly expect?

Although the weather can stir a sense of cabin fever, Lord knows I suffer from that, but take advantage of your surroundings and indulge in all that is cozy. Pick up that book that you have been meaning to finish for such a long time now and treat yourself to a steaming beverage! Your mind will appreciate some escape time....


My book and drink of choice for this afternoon....

... oh and more on these two particular items to follow soon!