I have no words

I haven’t written at all; I have nothing to say.  There are no words.  On Saturday my dear friend lost her baby boy, and there are no words.  No words of comfort.  No words to undo the pain.

There are no words to explain how someone that pulled together and somehow made it through the tragic loss four years ago of her firstborn son is now forced to endure the loss of another beautiful newborn.

A parent’s nightmare? I don’t know.  Nightmares are limited to things I can imagine, and never in a million years could I imagine that such a tragedy would strike, not once, but twice.

The words in my head are childish.  I don’t believe it.  I won’t believe it.  It’s not fair.  It’s not real.

How can this be so painfully and terribly and inconceivably real?

I have no words, I have only the heaviest heart full of sympathy and love for my beloved friend and her precious family.

Tempation v Moderation, a struggle in verse

It gets kind of heavy

This burden I shoulder

I must lighten up . . .

And yet I grow bolder

♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦

Bolder because it makes me so mad

To think that the chicken for dinner we had

Packed a punch of hormones, a dabble of drugs

I’m a tree-lovin’ hippy; I just want more hugs

♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦

More hugs for my children

And food that is healthy

I don’t like thinking of food

As sneaky and stealthy

♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦

Though it is a necessary chore

I find listing prohibitions to be such a bore

Despite the recent blast o’ information

I’m taking myself on a splurge-vacation

♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦

Oh the cakes I will bake

And the cookies I’ll eat

The latkes that shimmer

In oily heat

♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦

I love sugar! I do! I most definitely do!

From the tips of my hair to the soles of my shoe!

♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦

Yes, they say moderation is key

Sadly, that doesn’t quite cut it for me

For if even one crumb of a sweet does remain

It lures me; it taunts me; it calls me by name

♦  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦

I am weak-kneed before the goddess temptation

She’s simply superior to that wimp moderation

And yet I suppose I should balance the two

Come 2010, I promise, that’s just what I’ll do

What Not to Wear

If I could hang out with this crowd all the time my style would be all that and a bowl of keys–

disco

I know.  We look hot.  Sadly, other than an occasional 70s themed murder mystery party, my style, sweet though it may be, is grossly misunderstood.

I have a distinctive day-to-day look that’s been cultivated over the past 20 years (think: clueless 1980’s casual meets Eddie Bauer chic.) I’ll never understand how that TV show where they dole out fashion advice and five grand passed on the chance to re-design me.

I don’t get it.  Do these amber vision glasses make my roller skates look fat?

Never mind.  The public has spoken, and so I will put away my tapered-leg jeans and scruncies.  I’m content to stick to what I know: the damage being done by the stuff we’re putting into our bodies.  Someone else will have to manage the fashion police.

Speaking of experts, the food gurus have compiled a great list.  If we’ve got TV to thank for flagging the fashion potholes, then consider this list like airport runway through chemical-infested waters.

We need to get out of that water.  After all, I need to keep these hip babes healthy if I want any shot of passing on my style torch.

P3130776

P3140785

Most of the time we guzzle away, innocent and unaware of the hazardous chemicals we’re inviting into our bodies.  I was shocked to learn that even canned tomatoes, a mainstay for our family once our paltry summer supply runs dry, are chock full of some pretty scary stuff.

It’s overwhelming, I know, this ever-expanding world of What’s Killing Us Now.  But stick to it.  I can’t think of anything more worth-while.  To help out, here’s a list that we are following.  It’s like a cheat sheet of what to avoid and a brief explanation.  For more detailed information you should definitely read the full reasons behind the list.

  1. Canned Tomatoes — the tin in the cans are loaded with synthetic estrogen
  2. Corn-Fed Beef — Cows evolved to eat grass. When they don’t, they get sick.
  3. Microwave Popcorn —  chemicals (linked to infertility and some cancers) in the bag leach into the popcorn
  4. Non-organic Potatoes — you can’t wash them enough to get out the layers of pesticides and chemicals
  5. Farmed Salmon– high in cancer-causing contaminants like brominated flame retardants. Mmm, who can pass on flame retardant?
  6. Milk Produced with Artificial Hormones — this stuff is banned in most industrialized nations for its link to cancers.
  7. Conventional Apples — winner of the “fruit most laden with chemicals” position.  High exposure to pesticides has been linked, most recently, to Parkinson’s disease.

Kiss Gourmet Good-bye (and point me towards tomorrow)

If you are not a fan of Broadway smash hit A Chorus Line, forgive me the title.

chorus line

If you are a fan, why don’t you take a moment and let loose with song.  I know you know the lyrics, so go ahead. I’ll be here when you’re done.  But heed this warning; I may be singing when you get back.

And there is something about me belting out show tunes that makes those with ears want to turn a deaf one.  Go ahead and turn that blind eye too, because what with my legwarmers scrunched down around my ragged ballet shoes as I gracefully flounce over piles of laundry and plié to the gurgles of Mr. Coffee I am indeed a sight to behold.

Do you want to know why the melancholic show tunes have set up shop in my heart?

It’s because yet another one of my favorite things is leaving me.  Gourmet magazine is packing it in.

PA081003

I know, I know, I shouldn’t even admit to reading a print magazine. I should be more responsible to my leaf-bearing friends.   After all, I live with some of the greenest police on earth.   Even so, green feels blue as I bid farewell to my monthly fix of provocatively posed food and witty, wonderful wordsmiths.

Et tu Gourmet?

Why is it that when I decide something is good, it is in fact over?  Some people know immediately and intrinsically what’s hot. They jump on the latest trends; they wear the cool jeans.  They know when to stop wearing scrunchies.

There must be a word for the exact opposite of trendy…

Oh yes, its me.

I am habitually late to the trend party, and when I do arrive I come armed with the kiss of death.  Two thumbs up from me is the gesture equivalent of a horse-head on the pillow.  It’s a crazy power I wield.  Just ask Northern Exposure. Or Arrested Development.  Or leg warmers.

So yes, it is with a heavy heart that I kiss Gourmet good-bye.  Especially given my recent resounding success with sweet potato gnocchi.  It was a beautiful thing; a complex recipe with unexpected twists that resulted in fluffy pillows of goodness that melted on the tongues of my darling family.

No longer will my mailbox harbor pages laden with treats for my kitchen and my writer’s heart.  That river has dried up, and I need to look elsewhere.

Perhaps a more mundane source of happiness would serve me well.  Joy-bearing items with staying power.  Ones that won’t disappear from my life like The Hooters from my tenth grade soul.

I’m hearing good things about raindrops on roses.  And whiskers on kittens.