Word Fails Me . . .

I love seeing the beautiful images shared on Pinterest.  It would be nice to be able to click through to find out more about the original posts, but I have been stopped in my (mouse) tracks more than once by a few poorly-chosen letters!

I took French in high school, almost forty years ago.  I don’t remember much, but I do remember a lovely exclamation, one that is handy and meaningful in my artsy endeavors.  Loosely translated, it means, “Look at that!”

It’s Voilà!

Not “Viola!”  That would be an excited small purple flower or angry stringed instrument a bit larger than a violin and, please, under no circumstances ever, type “Wa-la!” (The voice in my head automatically translates that to “Well, lookie there!”)

You don’t have to write French to have superb taste.  You do have to NOT mangle French (or any other language, including English) to have any shred of credibility with me and a coven of other snooty internet bitches.  No matter how stunning the image you post, no matter how brilliant your boards, you will be a Pinterest pretender unless you say what you mean and spell (correctly) what you say.

Voilà!

C’est facile, n’est pas?

Saved by Anthony Bourdain

Paula, Paula, Paula Deen.

For years, you have been a key reason I do not watch food television – you, and Anthony Bourdain.  Between you two, my stomach turned often before I could turn the channel.  Now, when an obvious truth is publicly verified – your recipes are damaging to your health – I can’t even do the “I knew those box-cake-mix-Franken-desserts would get her!” taunting dance.

I went to bed last night, not with visions of sugar plums, but visions of bacon-wrapped, deep-fried, mayonnaise-dipped fat joke insults buzzing in my head. Who ruined my “Take your Krispy Kreme Bread Puddin’ Back to the Trailer Park, You Pretender!” rant?  Anthony Bourdain, of course. Bourdain, whom I have disliked heartily since reading his book Kitchen Confidential , has already slapped Roly-Poly Paula via Twitter,  making anything nasty I might say look like piling on or, equally as distasteful, supporting his ideas.

While I disapprove her place on the culinary stage (because I think she is a sloppy cook who relies on pre-fab ingredients and caters to the taste buds of a sit-com-character eleven-year-old boy) and I find her embarrassing to watch (because I think her Mae West meets my Aunt Blanche gray-haired double- entendres are gross,) I am truly sorry Paula Deen is diabetic.  She was fun to make fun of when she was just a fat lady with a stick of butter and a lack of decorum.  Now, it is not funny anymore.

Anyone who knows me personally will confirm that I am not at all interested in “health food,” so I am not clambering up onto a soapbox to shake my finger and intone the virtues of grass juice and raw pumpkin seeds.  I believe food is one of the great pleasures in life.  There is butter (salted and unsalted,) sugar, chocolate, booze, white flour, and red meat in my kitchen at all times.  I just don’t cook with all of it every meal!

Paula Deen’s quote in response to a question about whether or not her cooking style contributed to her disease (a reporter actually asked that!) she replied, “On my show I share with you all these yummy, fattening recipes, but I tell people, `in moderation,’” she added. “I’ve always eaten in moderation.”

Paula, Paula, Paula Deen, I am sorry you’re sick, but I am glad you’re now being honest about your illness.  I’d like to fault you for your lack of honesty in that quote, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt – you don’t seem to know how big a teaspoon is, so this unbelievable statement may, to you, not be a lie.

Now, before she does more damage, would somebody, please, explain “moderation” to that woman?

Does This Kitchen Make My Butt Look Big?

My sister is one of the smartest people I’ve ever known.  She is also one of the bravest. It is with the sincerest gratitude for her gracious permission I share this story with you.

I love my sister’s house.  Whenever I visit, I feel better about the condition of the world. It is a place filled with people who love and respect each other.   It is a lovely home.

It was, however, for a time, in jeopardy.  According to my sister, the house was just too small.  Years of accumulated memories, two children who had grown tall overnight, and – sorry Phyllis – a bit of a tendency to keep everything, had encroached on comfortable space. Plans were drawn and redrawn, discussions about moving were had; there was a lot challenging the status of the lovely (too little) house.

Then, a miracle happened, or at least that’s how I see it.  My sister, who had always been pretty sedentary (and, as far as I was concerned, had a free pass on not exercising after going 15 rounds with cancer and kicking the snot out of it,) decided to lose a few pounds and get more fit. She looked wonderful when she came for Christmas, but it was not until I saw her in her own lovely house that I got the full effect.  She laughingly said, “Now that I’ve lost weight, my house is not too small. It fits quite comfortably!”

As usual, I learned something valuable from my sister.  She reminded me that issues are best resolved when we really understand the nature of the problem, so we can consider alternative solutions.  Sure, she could have added another room to the house, but how much better to have saved that money and gained better health.

Next time a problem arises, I will remember to check from more than one vantage point.  Sometimes the best answer is found by rephrasing the question.

That’s My Boy

I just read this quote from the mother of a college football player, after her son’s great performance in a bowl game – a  woman whose son had been suspended for the 2010 college football season for driving under the influence and is currently on probation for an episode in the spring of 2011 when he was so drunk he knocked in the front door of an apartment that he thought was his and passed out on a terrified tenant’s bed.

Do I think he has a problem [with alcohol]? No. But I do think maybe he didn’t know when to say, “OK, I need to stop now.” And we always talk about that. He can’t drink now for a while. He turned 21, but he hasn’t been able to go out and do this or that. When he can go out and have his fun and have some drinks, he needs to know when to stop.

Are you shocked?  I am.

I am not shocked that a college football player got too much to drink – more than once.  I am shocked – and very saddened – that his mother seems to be more concerned that he can’t go out and “have his fun” than that, when he is legally permitted to drink, if he chooses to drink, he will be at enormous risk of hurting himself or someone else.  That his mother can deny an alcohol abuse problem, (even in the face of multiple arrests arising from it) is a sure sign there is more than a substance abuse issue in this kid’s life.

Do I think the young man should not be congratulated for his fine effort in a major bowl game win?

Of course not; he exhibited great skill and hard work.

Do I think he should be congratulated that he has followed his court sentenced substance-abuse counseling and community service hours?

Yes, I do; it’s hard.

Do I think his only problem with alcohol is that he has just not yet learned “when to stop?”

Absolutely not.

Do I think he is a bad kid?  No.  I think he is an at-risk kid who because of superior athletic talent might have been forgiven for a few transgressions too many and now is struggling to find his own inner moral compass.  That his own mother denies the seriousness of his alcohol-related actions makes me wonder what else she might not have taught him as a child.  Parents who love their children do not ignore or excuse dangerous behaviors.  We do everything we can to protect them, including, if we have to, risk pissing them off or hurting their feelings to try to keep them safe.

Teach our children that there is an important distinction between what is legal and what is right and why not getting caught is not a fair measure of the merits of an activity. It is the only way to equip them for adulthood and the only way to help them make their world better.

Are We There Yet?

Here we are, in that oddball week between Christmas and the New Year – that dead zone after the gifts have been opened but before the decorations are stowed away.  It’s like seven days’ worth of that awkward ten minutes after the bartender has turned up the lights, but before you can find your way to the door.  In the wrong light, even the best effort can look tacky.

The old familiar excuses, “I’m too tired from all the Christmas festivities I’ve planned/participated/ruined,” (hey, I don’t know your family) and “It’s too late to do anything to salvage 2011, so might as well wait until January,” can render even the most energetic and optimistic among us comatose. This year, because of the holidays’ weekend timing, it’s even worse; there’s not even a weekend in the middle to break up the blah. What’s a Type-A girl to do?

Since I find the best way to handle unpleasant things (that you can’t strangle) is to pretend they don’t exist, I suggest we just ignore the fact that the next few days represent the dregs of 2011. Don’t bother with the reflection, introspection, course correction, habit-rejection that usually sneaks up and stomps us this week.  Do what you think is right – right now.  It’s just that simple and just that hard.

Resolution-making is a tradition that only encourages us to lie to ourselves.  Why would we want to do that? I don’t want to, so there will be no list of 2012 personal To Do’s for me.  There is nothing wrong with wanting to do better.  I am just suggesting that we try to apply that idea broadly and generally – and as frequently as possible – in our everyday lives (and not just from January 1st until around President’s Day.)  It’s a reasonable plan for me and it’s easier to remember than a list.

Happy Every Day!

Shaken and Stirred

Hello Holidays!  Nothing like that heady cocktail of emotions that defines the Christmas season – and it really doesn’t matter what’s your religious background, December affects us all.  Here is a recipe for a fairly traditional holiday season.  How many ingredients do you have on hand?

Twelve dozen cookies,

Eleven times the traffic,

Ten cranky in-laws,

Nine extra pounds,

Eight bad mall Santas,

Seven burned-out light bulbs,

Six cocktail parties,

Five hours’ sleep,

Four awful sweaters,

Three lost presents,

Two flights delayed,

And a case of seasonal flu!

This year, I am serving up a new tradition.  I am mixing a large portion of patience with a shot of understanding, a dash of humor, and a large pinch of gratitude.  I am sure this won’t be to everyone’s taste, but it will suit me perfectly.  I hope you’ll try it, too.

Merry Christmas!  Happy Hanukkah!  Joyful Winter!  Peace!  Love!

“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”

How many times have we heard that admonishment?  Mom, teacher, scout leader, spouse have all reminded, hissed, whispered to us at one time or another.

I’d like to talk about the corollary to that old familiar piece of advice.  No, I am not going to rant about how beautiful and righteous and pure it is to tell the whole (often ugly and unnecessarily unkind) truth.  I am talking about “hearing something nice.”

Happy Holidays!  There, I said it.  I say it a lot, along with Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Peace, Take care of yourself, Be careful, I love you, You’re the best  .   .   .    I say these things because I have good feelings toward the intended hearer of the words.  That’s it.

There is no nefarious or disrespectful agenda in “Happy Holidays.”  “Merry Christmas” is not some holier-than-thou finger wagging behind a cheery smile and a friendly wave.  There are enough genuinely difficult and painful emotions in our lives, which are often amplified by celebratory seasonal events; we should not go hunting for reasons to feel put out!

Whenever someone wishes you a pleasant day, whether it is phrased in their religious heritage, the local vernacular, or even if they need the assistance of the Hallmark machinery, HEAR SOMETHING NICE!

BONUS:  If, by some slim chance, they don’t mean to be nice, you’ll have foiled their plot by taking them at their word, now won’t you?

I hope we will spend the rest of this holiday season expressing our good will and kindness to our friends and neighbors and any other folks who will play bit parts in our own personal holiday extravaganzas.  Peace on Earth starts with peace in our homes and in ourselves.

Say nice.  Hear nice.  Be nice.

Peace.

The Art of the Bathroom

“She can always put it in the bathroom, if she doesn’t like it,” I overheard someone remark about a gift of art she was considering.

REALLY????

The bathroom is the first place my eyes focus in the morning and the last light I turn out at night.

I LOVE the art in my bathroom!

Even for some of us who don’t think twice about putting another picture hanger in the wall, the bathroom is still less well-dressed than the rest of our home.  I decorate my house to suit me. After all, I live here!  Why would I hang a nicely framed original work in my little-used living room and then put an “everyone has these” predictable print (that matches the shower curtain, of course) in the room where I say my good mornings and good nights?  I wouldn’t.  As long as the medium can withstand the humidity (the piece won’t melt or run,) if I like it, it’s fair game for me. There are no other rules.

Go ahead. Put some art in your most functional of functional rooms.  They deserve be decorative, too – and I am not talking about air freshener/night lights – I mean put something on those walls that is meaningful and uplifting, that gives you joy.  You’ll be more decorative, too, if you start your morning smiling.

Art makes me smile.

The Neighborly Thing to Do

Would you like to live in a mall?  No?  Me neither!

I am not a world traveler, but I have been to enough places in the US to know a Foot Locker is a Foot Locker, whether it is in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania or Phoenix, Arizona.  Olive Garden, Parsippany, NJ serves the same faux food as Olive Garden, Charlotte, NC.  One of the major selling points of national chains is also its greatest drawback – consistency – SAMENESS.

This time of year, many of us will succumb to the draw of the national retailer – the consistency of holiday purchasing.  We’ll buy the same electronics gadgets at the big box, the same sweaters at the strip mall boutique, the same gift certificates to the chain restaurants we have always purchased. We will rely on the Hallmark folks for cards and decorations that will look just like everyone else’s cards and decorations     .   .   .

Sounds more like a “to do” list than the holiday spirit to me.

This year, as in years past, my family and friends will receive gifts purchased locally from small retailers and hand-made originals by artists, many of whom I’ve come to know personally.  There will not be a single box from a mall store.  Why is this important to me – and why should you care?  First, money spent in locally owned stores on locally made items stays in our community; it does not go to China or Mexico or Malaysia.  Second, there is a special feeling of joy attached to an artisan-made gift; it was made of inspiration and love, not to meet a production quota.

Support the small business owners, artists, and fine service providers within our community.  They are the loveliest neighbors and they’re a big part of what makes where we live unique and wonderful.  There’s no place like home. Let’s keep it that way!

A Note from the Holiday Hypochondriac

BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR THE TOP TEN THANKSGIVING AILMENTS

10. tryptophanitis– falling asleep before dessert.

9.  maritoma – bruising on your shin from your spouse kicking you under the table for asking about Uncle Richard’s third ex-wife.

8.  athlete’s food – eating dinner in front of the TV while watching the games.

7.  cranberryberi – extreme paranoid reaction to purplish can-shaped blobs that pass for food for one day of the year.

6.  bird flew – running out of turkey leftovers by December 20^th.

5.  tachycardigan – you just had to wear that sweater Aunt Sarah gave you for your birthday.

4.  lactose zintolerance – got red wine?

3.  drumsticksophrenia – total emotional meltdown if you don’t get a leg.

2.   yawndice – see tryptophanitis.

1.  premature evacuation – leaving without helping to clean up the kitchen!

While there are some precautions that can be tried to prevent these conditions, their side effects are quite unpredictable and volatile, so it is wisest to just let them run their course.  Be thankful for your family and friends, this Thanksgiving and every day.

Peace, love, and plenty of pumpkin pie to you all!