Here’s Hoping for Sparks

What the hell. I just re-heated my coffee in the microwave; I’ve read my emails; I’ve read your Facebook updates; I’ve played my Scrabble word; I’ve read all the blogs I read every morning; I’ve made my list of things to do for the day…so, I might as well write a little something for Not Alice this morning.

We’re playing matchmaker over here tonight. It’s our annual tying-of-the-bows night…it’s the evening when we host four florists from our church for dinner. After dinner, while Deb and I clean up the kitchen and get dessert ready, our florist friends tie about 100 bows for the annual Greens Workshop (which takes place this Sunday, December 5 from 2-4PM. Please come. It’s a great event).

One of our florist friends is divorced…she’s the mother of adult daughters, and we adore her. And, as you’ll recall, our friend Maria died exactly a year ago Thanksgiving night. Which left her husband Jim alone. On Sunday it occurred to me that our florist and Jim might just make a nice couple (they already know one another), so I asked our florist if she’d mind my including Jim in our dinner. She lit up. And I mean she lit up. So, I invited him. He jumped all over that invitation. Didn’t take him even a second to accept it.

Deb wonders if Jim’s “ready” to see anyone yet. My experience is that men get “ready” pretty quickly once they’re alone. I’ll let you know how it goes, okay?

Read Full Post »

Brunch Delay

It’s early on a Sunday morning, and I’m sitting in my car at our church. What kind of a church isn’t open by 7:30 AM on a Sunday?

I’m here to get two big quiches out of the freezer so I can defrost them. I have salad enough to feed an army in the backseat. And here I am locked out until who knows when.

I thought about walking over to Awakenings for a cup of coffee, but I’m wearing a crisp white blouse…and you know what happens every time I look this good and drink a cup of coffee.

Read Full Post »

Metaphor Reveals the Unexplainable

Today is Easter. And I’ll take the dog on a long walk just after the sun rises, and then I’ll finish getting ready for a few guests (we’re having a pork roast that will knock your socks off. And homemade applesauce. And my soon-to-be-famous cornbread. And roasted asparagus), and then we’ll head to church. And it’s going to be a breathtaking day.

I have to admit: I don’t believe that Jesus’ body resurrected. I know it’s hard for some of my friends and readers to hear this. Deb can hardly stand it. I also do not believe that Jesus was born of a virgin. Sorry.

But my disbelief in those details does not mean I don’t believe in their greater truths. (I just changed the word “unbelief” to “disbelief.” It’s a tricky wording issue. I am not an unbeliever. I simply cannot in good conscience get hung up on and reify what I consider the metaphor).

There are lots of traditional Christian doctrine I don’t believe, but I won’t throw you into a funk about it right now. Let’s just say that there are also a lot of things I DO believe. I do believe in resurrection of the spirit because one happened to me. I do believe in a life after death. I do believe in a Higher Power. I do believe that Love overcomes all things. And I mean all things. So, when I sit in church today and when I sing those old familiar hymns and when I let Easter sort of flow in me, that’s what I’ll be thinking about. I’ll also be thinking of you, dear Easter Reader. Happy Day.

Read Full Post »

To Do: 9/24/09

To Do:

1. Call those women who want to buy more Findlay Market books. I swear, I am getting sick of that book thing. 
2. Call Karen Heyl to discuss her sculpting our stone garden bench. She’s been promising to do it for a couple of years and now she’s home from an onsite project in Vail and has no other work lined up. Deb is resistant…thinks this will clutter up the yard. She thinks everything will clutter up the yard. She thought that about the garden, too; I have to gently persist. 
3. Round up some dumb prizes for the annual church picnic bingo game. My buddy Don and I call the craziest afternoon of bingo you’ll ever see. It gets a little wild. We are sort of hilarious together. And you put us in those hats we wear, and…well…it’s nuts. This Sunday from 1 to 4 at Lunken Field. You’re invited. 
4. Pick back up on that short story/novel. I dropped it. I got to that point at which I have never found always find myself. Where should it go from here? It’s sort of a panicky place. There it waits. Begging to go somewhere. But I’m the creator of it, so I have to take it wherever it needs to go. But I don’t know where it should go. How the hell should I know these things. Am I God? No. I am not God. Leave me alone, you stinking fiction. I love you. Quit looking at me. 
5. I need an office. Really. Either here or in some hole somewhere. A hole sounds kind of good. A hole with a desk and a chair and a coffee pot. 

Read Full Post »

The Characters Deb Hauls In

I skipped church yesterday, but Deb went…and then she brought a friend home for lunch. But this friend, whom I generally like, sort of tested my patience. I mean, once you see someone  out of context, you begin to see some disturbing things. For instance:

1. She insisted we take our BBQ’d chicken out of its plastic container before we heated it in the microwave…something about exploding.
2. She wanted to talk about “stewardship” because she and Deb are on the Stewardship Committee at church; when someone wants to talk about that shit on a gorgeous day like yesterday, I usually change the subject to sex.
3. She thought Murphy was nice so long as he stayed resting at the edge of the deck. When he followed her into the house, she claimed he was a  “bad boy” because she said he was begging. He NEVER begs. I think he was just watching to make sure she didn’t mess with stuff. Murphy is NOT a bad boy. He’s practically perfect.
4. She couldn’t be anywhere near Henry…apparently, she’s “slightly allergic” to cats.
5. If it were her house, she said she would probably be working to remove the garden. Please. I about hit her.
6. She wore white pants and white sandals WITH PANTY HOSE. And here it is about 80 degrees. Enough said.
7. Except to say that when we went to look at the bees, she had to roll up the legs of her pants so she wouldn’t get any grass stains on them. What?!
8. I thought that was funny because I was just waiting to see her reaction when she realized what she had to wade through to get to the bees.
9. Which brings me to the poison ivy…
10. She got a little bit up the hill when someone said “poison ivy,” and she froze. Apparently, poison ivy will kill her. I reminded her that she was protected from everything because of her panty hose (I am hilarious, but I think she didn’t love my humor), but she wasn’t buying it. I told her that she might get less exposure to all that killer poison ivy if she just moved on rather than standing stock still in it. But she insisted on picking out each and every step as if there were land mines.

But don’t worry…we never talk about you when you visit us, Reader. Just this once.

Read Full Post »

Always Stop at the Overlook

I’m not sure about the new header here…maybe it’s too light and happy. It does look a little bit springlike, so I guess I’ll keep it until I feel the need to move on.

I’m thinking of skipping church this morning. My wonderfully fun dinner-group friends (you know, Heidi and Cathy and all) cautioned me about missing the sermon next week, so since I have to show up then, I think I’ll skip today. (We all ate at Arnold’s last night…I had a blast because Deb and I sat right across the table from Heidi and Cathy and laughed.)

Today begins a series of three sermons on marriage, and next week is the one about gay marriage…or Holy Unions. I prefer the word “marriage.” “Holy Union” makes it sound as if there shouldn’t be days when you’d like to wring your partner’s neck. “Marriage” sounds as if it can hold up to that. Anyway, Heidi and Cathy have already read the sermon, and they say I need to hear it. Of course, we all agreed that anytime gay stuff is talked about in church we always feel as if there’s a big spotlight shining on us. So, I’ll go next week and skip today.

Deb and I played golf yesterday; then we rode our scooters downtown to join our little group for dinner. We rode downtown along the river on Eastern Avenue and came home through Eden Park—we stopped in the dark at the Eden Park Overlook…lots of people were there, and the colors reflecting on the river were gorgeous. The whole night was nice. A perfect night for taking the scooters for a spin.

Read Full Post »

If It Says “Bistro,” It’s Probably Not Stuffy

We had a late night. I’m the organizer of our church dinner groups, and this year I hand picked our wonderful group. Last year, because I was in charge, I felt responsible to take on the…well, let’s just call them the “more challenging” participants. There were some interminably long and poorly mannered dinners. This year, as recompense, I assigned us our cream-of-the-crop friends…the people we most want to eat dinner with…Heidi and Cathy included, who are just a little bit younger than we are and have been together for 27 years now and have three young kids; Don (of wreath-making fame) and Pam; Tiffany and Dan.  We met as a group for the first time last night at JeanRo Bistro, and we were there for three hours. Wine was drunk (no, not by me). Fun was had.

It was my idea to eat at JeanRo Bistro…you may recall that I had dinner there last month with a bunch of folks from the English department, and I loved it; so, I chose it for our group because no one else had eaten there yet. But Debbie wasn’t looking forward to it…she thought it was going to be stuffy. Why on earth would I choose a stuffy place? Have I ever? No. I have not. JeanRo’s is a cozy and colorful and wonderful place, and you just want to stay for another cup of coffee. Deb thought we’d been there only two hours when in fact we were there for three. And on a Friday night when she is usually tired. I ate the steak pom frites. Most of us did. It’s French, after all.

Read Full Post »

Paring Knives Are for Sissies

This “knife-skills lesson” is going to crack me up. I’m on the committee at our church responsible for fun stuff. You know, like the picnic, the greens workshop, the dinner groups…if it involves cookies or food or a large group, we probably organized it. I like the folks on my committee. This morning we’re meeting at church to prepare four different soups for 200 people for tomorrow. I’ve already cooked 5 lbs of beef and made a lot of broth…browning and boiling all of that beef really steamed up our windows.

Today, after some of us have an early and great breakfast together at the Echo, we’ll walk over to church and chop vegetables. Well, one of our number is a culinary-school graduate, and she’s sort of good at this stuff. And she’s decided to give us a “knife-skills lesson” as we prepare the vegetables. We’re to bring with us a chef’s knife and a paring knife and our cutting board. Well, let me tell you, I love knives. All kinds. I carry a pocket knife with me almost every day. Two. One in my pocket (a Case Red Bone Butterbean) and one in my backpack (a small Case Texas Toothpick). Ooops. That’s fodder for another post. Back to the kitchen knives. Yes, I have Wüstoff…German. Top notch. I love the feel of them in my hands. They have heft. They are forged of high-grade steel. I chop the hell out of stuff.

But Terri, our fine culinarian, desires that the vegetables be chopped uniformly. Oh my God, that’s when I knew I was going to have some fun with her today. Because I prefer my vegetables chopped non-uniformly. This is why I actually use a knife rather than a food processor. I like a rough cut. And when someone like me starts to mess with someone like Terri, who is always put together just so, you know, then all kinds of craziness ensues. I know this will really really bug her, too.

And I am prepared to tell her that I think paring knives are for sissies.

Read Full Post »

Through a Glass, Darkly

I’m still flying under the radar here. Fun.

This morning I’m thinking of Emily, our odd odd and gifted friend at church. Deb picks up a lot of stray people, and Emily is one Deb found in our church choir (there is no better church choir for reasons I may tell you about one day). When she’s stable, Emily is smart and funny and game (but never normal); but she’s mentally ill, too, and right now she’s on high doses of something that has taken the light out of her. I’ve seen this happen before, particularly with Deb’s brother; when they get too agitated or too dangerous, drugs take the edge and the life right off of them. Then they just sit blank eyed and thick and waiting for something.

Yesterday I found Emily waiting in a chair drinking a cup of coffee, so I sat with her there. Her boss has just cut in half her hours at her menial job. She doesn’t know if she’s eligible for unemployment since she still has some work. She owns some rental property, but she’s too vacant to keep them up right now. What are you going to do about news like that, so I just sat there with her. Then she sat with us in church, but when we sang the first hymn I had to stop and just listen to Emily. Have I said yet that she is a trained musician? She sings. We turn out some real musicians here in Cincinnati. And from that blank person next to us came the most beautiful music—not that head-thrown-back performance kind of music that so many well-schooled vocalists give you if they know you’re listening; Emily’s was effortless and…well, “pure” is the only word that comes to mind. I couldn’t sing—didn’t want to sing—anymore; I just wanted to listen to Emily and watch her face. God will come to us in the most unexpected ways, I think.

Read Full Post »

Church Skipper

You can get too much church—at this time of year or at any time of year. This week has found me hanging with church people a little too much…and I have my limits…especially after last night’s annual obligatory dinner party  at which I found myself seated at the table with a blowhard of blowhards (though Deb just got funnier and funnier in response to the dipshit…for instance, she asked him something like, “how much money would it take for you to get your forehead tattooed?”)—so I’m skipping. After all, I’ve got a renegade reputation to uphold. I’ve decided to either ride my bicycle or take my scooter on the road…the weather is practically balmy, and since we don’t get many of these 55-degree days here at this time of year, I’m going to get out in it.

Yesterday I finally got out of the house after 6 hours of baking freaking cookies (which, by the way, are GORGEOUS and DELICIOUS!), and I caught bicycle-riding fever seeing a few people in their cold-weather gear out on their bikes. Exactly zero of my calories were burned in exercise yesterday. So, I know riding that bike will make me feel good.

On the other hand, I can ride my bicycle in all kinds of cold, but it’s flat-out intolerable on that scooter when temps are below 40 degrees; today, I could hook up with my scooter-riding buddies who will head out for a long ride or I could just ride solo and go wherever I want for as long as I want…find some new roads.

Liz's Delicious Jam Thumbprints

(The recipe for these Jam Thumbprints came from the cookbook given me by my friend Suzanne, but if you don’t have a friend as thougtful as Suzanne, you can click above and link over to the Food Network for it. Seriously, they will make you the hit at any party.)

Read Full Post »