Hello again

Life is running smoothly, once again. Now, I am a psychotherapist in training. It usually takes me about a month to get used to a new job (or at least the school year...even though now I am not teaching). The girls are adjusted (more like I am adjusted). Actually, I love what I am doing. It is exciting, rewarding work, though emotionally draining sometimes. When a child hugs me because I helped her in some way...there is nothing like it. Also, Lyle, my boss, is great. Working for someone where I can truly be myself and say how I feel. It is refreshing. We have a great relationship. Since I am working for a psychologist and also being supervised there is a lot of talk about feelings, intentions, and motivation behind action...I LOVE IT, though it is hard at times to look at myself so critically. Growth is something I thrive on, even if sometimes the growth hurts a bit. Looking at oneself is definitely not always so easy. In order to give therapy I am required to analyze my actions. It is important to see what is behind what I say, how I feel in session, and what motivates where I go with clients. Sometimes, they may do something that brings up crap within me. I have to know myself enough to see beyond all the bol shit going through my own mind, so I can truly help the client go through...well their own shit really. In fact many a time I sat down to write on my blog, but what I had to say was so personal, so near to my heart, and perhaps also hurtful to others. I just could not write it. It felt like too much.
There was lots of amazing food to write about like the mint chocolate chip cookie sandwiches I made Erik for his birthday, my kickass apple cream-cheese cake that I made for Rosh Hashanah, or the pomodoro I made tonight, slow roasted tomatos roasted in the oven for three years (heaven surely has garlicky, bright red tomatos flecked with fresh basil), but in light of all the deep thinking, it felt like writing about food would just be an easy way out, and unfortunately I am not one to take that route. I rather sweat it out, or avoid whatever is looming over me all together. Anyhow, I am back.

Work starts...NOW

This week I start my work schedule for the year. I have lots of mixed feelings about the whole thing. On one side I am so excited to truly begin. Working with people invigorates me. Helping them figure out their problems and heal themselves...there is nothing else like it. Plus, my boss is supportive, nurturing, and quite wonderful. I will learn so much from her. I am also scared shitless. Though I put on a good show, and probably seem as if I have it all together. Two years of school, and I feel completely unprepared. There is so much I do not know, and so much that I have forgotten. Plus, I am training to be a therapist. This whole gig is completely new to me. No matter how natural it feels. I got A LOT to learn. It is overwelming. I feel all this passion and excitement for this new change in my life, but my family is my first priority. My family is IT for me. Maya and Amara are still very young; a year and a half is NOTHING. They should be with their mother for most of the time (or father or loved one). The first three years of their life are the most important. It forms how they will be in relationships, their feeling of independence, sense of empathy, and so much more. Working takes me away from them. Three years is a blip in the scheme of things, though everything to them. There is a fine balance between work and family, and I am not quite sure a woman can really have it all. Part of me feels like somewhere something gets sacrificed, whether it be a career suffers, or the children loose their parent only to see them on the weekends or right before bed. I hope I can strike a balance. Perhaps working two to three afternoons to start, than more as they (and mostly I) are able to handle it. As they grow up it is so important that they feel as if I was there for them.

Friends

One of the things I miss the most about the East Coast is friends. I have made some in Houston. In fact, I have met some great people. Friendship takes time though. Time, with kids, is limited. The friends made when I was younger, from college days and soon after, know me differently. Those were the days when there was time. Time and lots and lots of alcohol, plus a dose of a late night or two, three...Now I am lucky if I make it till 11. The precious moments I have on the weekends are spent either going out by myself or relishing in family together time. We try to get together with some of the friends we have made, but coordination, healthy children and nap schedules makes it hard.
A few girl friends and I created a monthly dinner. We all look forward to it so much. For a night I get dressed up, blow dry my hair, and put on some make-up. I slowly get dressed. Throw on heels. We drink wine, taste one another's food, and talk. I love it. I just wish there was more...
Friendship now is different. It must be cultitivated. It's not as easy. I wonder if it would be this way if we lived on the East Coast as well?

Waking Up

Sometimes I forget. I am so caught up in mominess, in lover, in family that the rest of me floats by on the wind. My days are spent cuddling with Maya and Amara, giving them love, and showing them this bright, amazing world we live in. I read to them, walk with them down the street looking at birds, flowers, squirrels, and showing them the wind. I make them their meals. My life has become something else, bigger, more expansive. Today, at Dr. Cubberly's memorial service I remembered. I remembered that I am extraordinary. I have gifts. My extraordinariness expands out beyond my family and into the world. There is so much I want to give, so much more to experience, so much more in store. It is fitting that such an epiphany should occur at Dr. Cubberly's memorial because part of his life was dedicated to helping people see their own greatness. It was as if his spirit was with me, smiling, even chuckling a bit.
My love for my family is the greatest, most wonderful and amazing part of my life, but there is more. I have a gifts. I must remember.
I understand now what I want this blog to be about. It is not necesarily about food, though it comes into play quite often in my life. Many of my most memorable experiences have occured around a great meal, whether it was hippy grilled cheese in a parking lot, or a michelin starred restaurant in the french countryside. The blog is about me and the conversations that occur around my kitchen table. Huh...finally I "got" it.

The garden

This weekend I am going to start creating my vegetable garden. I am kinda pysched, yet kinda scared all at the same time. Oh, and I also think I may be nuts. The garden will not be in the middle of my long like orginally planned. Instead it will be on the side of our house. Since it is on the side of the house instead of being about 5X6 feet it will be about 12X5 (ish), since now it will be a semi-circle. Now, you may be asking yourself why I think I am nuts...because I have dabbled in vegetable gardening, but by no means to I have any KIND OF CLUE what I am doing, but I want to, if that counts for anything. To get myself in the mood for the veggie garden endeavor I bought some...plants. I got two peppers, some suash, cucs, and multiple basils. At the moment I have kolrabi, leeks and a pitiful looking tomato plant in the yard. They are not dead, but not blooming either. The dude at the store said I have to feed them every two weeks. This makes sense. Hey, at least they are not dead, considering the heat.

Today was 93 days, and we went outside twice because we thought it was NICE out. Is that pathetic or what? I am from the Northeast I am not supposed to get used to this HOT ASS SHIT. The sad part is, I am...I really am. The cool thing about living down South is gardening, so I feel like it is my responsibility to "get this".

I am scared of the digging part. 12X5 ish is a lotta dirt, lawn, and stuff to take care of. There is this idea in my head that it will be peaceful, Zen, and incredibly cool to have the gals see the food they are eating. Oh, and how aweseome will it be to eat food that was grown right outside our door. Doesn't get much better than that. Can you tell I am trying to psych myself into this?

Nanny Woes

At the moment I am extremely frustrated. I was supposed to start working tomorow, but have had the hardest time finding a nanny or babysitter. I will only be working two half days, and no one really wants those hours. UGH! When I get pissed off, I cook, furiously. After making three Julia Child dishes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking I actually took out my Baking with Agave Nectar book and started putting ingredients to the side to make rasberry chocolate macaroon bars (sugar-free of course). What the hell is wrong with me??? Initially, I attempted to work out using Excercise TV. Either yoga or some punches seemed like a good idea, but the damn thing did not work, so instead I cooked. What pisses me off the most about the "non-nanny" situation is how READY I am to get in the room. Essentially, this is the start of my new career. I forgot how excited I was to help people heal, the feeling of "getting in there", and helping people figure "it" out.
For the past year and a half I have been mom and wife. Working, though it is only about 8 hours a week, made me remember that other part of myself. Once, before I had Maya and Amara I was (sometimes) hot. I had IT (at least sometimes in the right light, with the right dress). My ass was solid, abs tight from hours in the gym, I was a teacher, a damn good one in fact...There is lots of different sides to me now, but I forgot about them. I have been so wrapped up in being mom and wife, I forgot to...um shave my legs, perhaps tweeze and throw on my contacts. I forgot I did Reiki, I knew a thing or two about wellness, healing, life before children. I must remember that before there mom there was Danna, Gordo, DG, D, the one and only...I wasand am somethin' else! All this because I cannot find a lousy nanny. Shit.

Hears to you Doc

Today I found out my teacher and mentor Dr. Walter Cubberly passed away last night. I am so saddened. He was a remarkable man. I took two of his courses while getting my Master's at U of H. It is rare to meet a human being who lives their life fully and authenticly. Most people just kind of blindly walk, bumping where they may. Living a life of integrity, honesty, and love is painful, scary, but real. He knew people so well. He understood their pain and helped them heal themselves, a remarkable gift. I would leave Dr. Cubberly's classes inspired, looking within myself. He felt that to be a good therapist, first we must know ourselves. Our client's can only go as deep as we have gone. While in his classes I applied all the lessons to my own life. I tried to be honest with myself, look at who I was, question it, over and over again. Needless to say I was also in therapy. In sexual counseling I wrote my paper on love and intimacy, so I could utilize it in my own relationship. Family counseling was extremely poignant because I was about to start a family of my own. I wanted to learn from the mistakes repeated through out the generations by becoming aware of what they were. It was not easy. The last time I saw Dr. Cubberly was after I wrote a paper on my family. It was a novella, 60 pages long. My story was the that of my great grandfather, my grandmother, my mother, and of me. It was scary, sad, and beautiful all at the same time. I went to his office to see what he thought. God, I was so frightened I'd screw up my kids, repeat all the mistakes, be a horrible mother. Our meeting was towards the end of my pregnancy. Of course he allayed all my fears, told me it was going to be OK. He said I have had two years of training (school that is), and that I would be a wonderful mother. We hugged.
When the gals were born I called him to tell him I did it. I really did it. He said, "of course you did." Just last week I was thinking of calling him. In a few weeks I go back to work. I wanted to say hello, keep in touch.
Dr. Cubberly was a kindred spirit. He was a one of those special human beings who touched everyone he met. I hope I can be as honest, as authentic, as healing, as loving and as sensitive as he was. Cheers Doc. May your loving soul find peace and light. Thank you.

Ode: the speech I would have given

Georgia and I met my sophmore year of college in 94? Over 10 years ago. She has been like a sister to me. The first time we hung out it was over a bag of doritos (it always goes back to food). We were pledging AEPhi and a chick wanted us to dance like tool bags in front of the guys at the PhiTau house. The other pledges were doing it, but I was way too cool for that. I asked Georgia if she wanted to grab a beer in my dorm room (which I lovingly called the blue room...it was a box with a rainbow guitar stringed Jimi poster on the wall and a bean bag placed next to the fridge which I used as a table). We talked into the night and decieded to call another pledge, Rosie, to take a road trip to New Hope. The next day the three of us piled into the car, said screw pledging, and left. Back then friendships were created over long car rides, conversations and music. I remember eating at what we thought was a fancy restaurant, baked brie. I think I went to a psychic. It was one of those perfect days. We have been friends ever since.
In college we spent lots of Georgia's nonexistent money. Mostly on what we thought was good wine, nachos at Kates, and the occasional dress up dinner at the Melting Pot. She was my partner in crime. We always just understood one another, even when we did not necesarily agree. Through out the years I have slept in tents...I do not think I would have done so if it was not for her. I've stayed up many a night, eaten many a great meal, and had many an adventure with Georgia.
To this day crab cakes will never be the same. When Georgia found out I never ate one we immediately got in the car and drove from our school in Delaware to her parent's restaurant and where I had what is now and will always be the best crab cake I have ever had. It's funny, but we were both not sorority types at all, but the two of us found one another through it, and have remained sisters ever since (shit I am corny huh?).
Georgia and I come from a big, special group of friends. She has always been the center of it. We had the NOMOACTU book club (which met once at the East End amidst much debauchery), the cook off, so many shows, and pollyanna holiday parties. Georgia was definitely the planner. There are so many wonderful memories that she helped create. Plus, if it was not for her I would never have met "cute Erik", the father of my children and love of my life (though much to her chagrin he moved me to Texas).
Georgia has always given to people. Her generousity is boundless. I think that is why I like Jeff so much, he is the first guy who has not taken...he GIVES to her, making her better than who she is. Plus, they are friends first. Friendship is the foundation of a good relationship (but I will not get preachy). During the ceremony I faced Jeff. When they said their vows I SAW the way he looked at her, and knew that she'd be OK. I am kinda protective of Georgia. I have threatened people, and I think they kinda thought I'd follow through...They love one another. I cannot be happier....so cheers to a great friend and a wonderful, hopeful, happy marriage...

Luv, D

Happy Brithday to me

Today is my birthday. Birthdays for me are kinda like New Years or Yom Kippur. They get me thinkin', well almost everything does, but birthdays do even more than I normal (which if you know me is a lot). I turn 34 today (shhhhh...). 34 is one year away from 35, or better yet 5 years away from 40. Wrinkles, yup, some. Do I look my age. Uh...yeah I think so, especially after two kiddos. Do I act it? On occasion it depends on how adventureous or petulant I feel at a given moment. Any regrets yet? None, thank goodness. Oh, and I still fit in to my Lenny Kravitz, black bell bottom pants with the gold buttons, though they are a bit tight around the middle. I had those suckers since I was in high school.
My 34th year will be a good one. It is the year where I will start working again (though very part-time). The year I will fit back in to a size 6 (though this may be too resolutiony).
This will be the year of the garden. I want to build an organic veggie garden right in the middle of the yard. We will grow green beans, tomatos, okra, eggplants, bright colored chard. Perhaps this willl be the year I can convince Erik to get some chickens. The neighbors may not be so keen on the idea (with roosters and all), but I would love to turn our shed into a chicken coop. Fresh eggs every day. The gals and I can learn about where our food comes from. The chickadees can roam in our small little yard. Ahhhh...has Texas turned me into a hick?
I have this vision of large, red, fruit ripened tomatos falling in to baskets, gals picking lemon balm and sage, crushing basil in their hands. Lemons picked off or trees.
My 34th year will be a year of bursting creativity and life.

Enchiladas

I do not have regular meals that I make each week. Actually, there is not many recipes that I cook a second time, aside from roast chicken time and time again (do vegies count?). I want to be a cook that has certain foods that I know how to make by heart. Ones that I tweak and can call my own. I get so caught up in experimenting, and what looks good in all the different food magazines that I forget about this notion of mine. Lately I have tried to cook what seems easy. Meals that we can eat twice a week, and meals that will stretch our dollars that use seasonal vegetables from the local farmer's market. This week I made some killer enchiladas using this month's recipe from Bon Appetit. I think enchiladas are fabulous comfort food. Plus, you can tweak the recipe (once there is a foundation) to include fresh veggies or different proteins. Enchiladas will be what I make before my cilantro dies, or when it is most plentiful because I need a lot of it. I actually memorized the recipe. Now that I am writing it out I will make it again and again, especially when all we have to eat in hot Houston is different types of summer squashes. This recipe was so good. I cannot wait to eat it again.

Enchiladas: Serves 6
About 2.5 pounds of tomatillos rinsed and husked
4 unpeeled garlics
4 poblano peppers cored and seeded
2 cups of cilantro chopped
1 cup of chopped red onion (or 1 onion)
1 cup of chopped scallions (or about 1 bunch)
2 tablespoons of whatever herb you want (the original called for oregano, but I used sage because it was what I had in my garden)
1 teaspoon of cumin
1 cup of feta or cotija cheese crumbled
a pound of protein (I used flank steak, but you can use shrimp, shredded chicken or even a combo of squash, zucchini, and spinach)
Corn tortillas (or whole wheat if you like)

Foil a rimmed baking pan. Brush pan with oil. Broil tomatillos, poblanos (cut side down), and garlic for about 10 minutes until peppers are charred in places. Let rest for about 15 minutes while you cut the onions, chop the onions and scallions, and herb, and put your protein out to rest or marinade (if you want totally up to you). Peel the charred parts of the peppers off. Coarsely chop the peppers. Add about 1/3 a cup to food processor, along with the tomatillos and the cilantro. Pulse it and add the onions and scallions. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Preheat your oven to 350
Wrap about 8 tortilla in damp paper towel and microwave for about a minute. Meanwhile saute the red onion and peppers for about 2 minutes, add the cumin, herb, and salt and pepper. Prep your protein. I just sauted some flank steak for about 5-6 minutes a side, let it rest for 5 minutes, then sliced it up nice and thin. Make a bowl of the salsa verde that the tortillas can easily fit into. Dip the tortillas in the salsa on each side. Also, spread about a half a cup of salsa verde on the bottom of a lasagna dish or glass baking dish. Lay the tortillas in the dish. Spread the pepper onion mixture, some protein, and about a tablespoon of cheese on each tortilla. Roll it up. Do this with all 8 tortillas. Pour two cups of salsa verde on the enchiladas. Bake for 20 minutes. Garnish with some onions or avocado if you like. Drink margaritas. Yum.

Momma Week

This past week I was on my own with the gals. Erik was on business in Florida. He was away on Mother's Day, which sucked. The first day or so he was gone I became depressed. Being home is amazing, but can be isolating as well. I talk to my daughters, and my other momma friend down the block, but that is it.
I am a talker. I mean if you know me or have known me I am a really big talker. I like being around people. When Erik is home we talk, a lot. Having him be away made me realize how important it is for me to talk, review, discuss the day and everything else under the sun. When Mother's Day hit I was so sad. It only felt like Mother's Day because my neighbor was gleefully sipping a glass of wine during the day as she strolled along with her husband and son. I know, I know Mother's Day is a hallmark holiday created for marketing purposes, and yes I am totally a sucker for it. I want breakfast in bed or a fancy brunch (though I hate pre-fix menus), spa gift certificates, potted plants, and jewelry with my daughters' birth stones. And, yes, I am a total sappy sucker.
Even though Erik was away he still made it special for me. He had me do a Treaure hunt of cards through out the house. I cried. The rest of the time Erik was away I decieded I'd stop being sad and really be with Maya and Amara. Insanely enough it worked. I even enjoyed bath time and was not remotely annoyed when one of them shat in the tub. Really. We fed ducks, went to the park, and strolled our street countless times. The three of us had fun together. It was kinda like I got Mommy Week because I made it that way. It is nice to have a computer back though...and I think Erik can change some diapers while he is home too...

Home Now

I just got back from Philly yesterday. Everyone survived. I had a wonderful time, though at some points it was riddled with guilt. As usual, I ate my way through my vacation. About three pounds later I am currently on detox! My body just ain't made the way it used to be. A hangover usually lasts about a day, now it takes two or three. While in Philly I hit a few great restaurants.
My wonderful friend Keith treated me to a FABULOUS meal at James. James is actually across the street from my old apartment, so going back to the hood was nostalgic and fun. Everything was perfect. James got best new chef 2008 from Food and Wine magazine. It is one of the hottest places in Philly to eat. We had wild ivory salmon poached in olive oil topped with trout caviar. It was silky butter with a hint of salt. I will dream about this dish. We also ate mullet (not Amara's hair, but the fish) which was in a chicken consomme. The outside of the fish was crispy good. The dish reminded me of the ocean, which is what I believe it was supposed to do. We also at ricotta gnudi with braised pork belly. Gnudi is a large, cloudy puff of gnocchi. There was a fresh pea rissotto with bacon ice cream that was a salty, fresh tasting, bite of creamy goodness. My absolute favorite dish was actually a side dish of tortelli topped with crispy chick peas--I wish I knew more, so I could somehow replicate this dish. The pasta was cooked perfectly, the chick peas added great texture. Wow.
My trip has me feeling refreshed. It was not just the sheer laziness, or seeing old friends, but even though it was a short trip, it brought me a new sense of self. I have not been an "I" in a long time. I am a "we" now. I like "we", but it is nice to remember the "me" in all of it...not sure if that made sense, but it sounded good to me.
My trip reminded me of how blessed I am. My trip reminded me of just how much I love Erik, Maya, Amara, Harry, and Leo. My trip also reminded me of my history, of my friends. It is nice to have history, to be loved, and to love. I miss Philly. I miss living in a city, but most of all I miss sharing in my friend's lives. It was so great to be able to be there. I also realize that even though I miss Philly and my dear friends I like the life I lead in Houston. I am creating new stories, new history.

Heading to the place I used to call home

I am going to Philadellphia next week, solo. This will be the first trip I take by myself since I have been married. It has been three years. Erik is taking a few days off to watch the gals, and his parents are coming to help him out. For 4 days it is just me. Sad to say, but I am kinda nervous. I am not scared that Erik will not do a great job. I know he will do fine. Maya and Amara will miss me, but the world will not stop. I just feel...weird, like on some level leaving them is not natural. The idea of being free gives me guilt, as if the idea of being alone has me let go of some kind of burden. Going away for a bit is good for me. Plus, it will be nice seeing friends and catching up. I just feel so different. I mean I am still Danna, my eyes are slightly more crinkly and my hair has some white spots, but underneath my new ass it is the same old me, but somehow it isn't. It is Danna, Erik, Maya and Amara. Danna, plus.
I wonder if I am the mom who talks about my kids all the time. If, because I stay at home, I have become boring. The girls and Erik are the center of my universe, aside from myself of course. I cook, write on this thing, read, eat out when I can, and take care of people, in fact I love taking care of people. I am good at it. Before having kids I was so judgemental (who the hell am I kidding...still am, kinda). I never thought I would be the one who'd stay at home with my kids. Erik and I discussed being home for a year, now it will be two. I enjoy being home with the girls. Today we went to the park. When we got home the girls were exhausted, so the three of us just laid on the floor. Amara was across my chest, in the crook of my arm, and Maya sprawled out on my belly. The three of us just watched the fan curled up, snuggling. Peaceful. My little heavens. So...I guess I am that mom.

Houston Chowhound

I am full. I mean Thanksgiving Day, carb coma full, and it feels nauseating, but good. Today I went to my first Houston Chowhound event. Houston Chowhound is an online group of foodies that meets for dinner and has occasional food oriented get togethers. LOVE IT. I am excited to meet food-oriented people, learn about new restaurants, and talk food. It was nice to get out. Today was a pot-luck brunch.
Before the event I thought and thought about what I wanted to make. I felt like whatever I made would in some way define me. As usual I read way to much into things because it certainly was not like that. Initially, I was going to bake a quiche from Julia's book. A frittata with goat cheese , sun-dried tomato and swiss chard sounded good. I wanted to make a statement, something different, yet traditional. Bon Appetit magazine had an article about old dishes made new, perfect. I went with bacon wrapped dates stuffed with asiago. The dish was super-easy, great finger-food, and may just be my new apertif horsdeuvres when we have company.

Perhaps the best part of the occasion was that I made them twice. I made the dates once yesterday for the event that I thought was...ummm...yesterday, and ate them pissed off on my way home in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. Than I made them again for the real brunch today. Needless to say I know where the kind woman, Shannon, who hosted, lives. It's a nice neighborhood, been there before. I swear I think when Maya and Amara were born I lost even more brain cells than I previously had. Oye.

Stuffed Dates (from Bon Appetit)
24 dates
small slices of asiago cheese from a hunk
hot smoked paprika
8 slices of applewood smoked bacon

Preheat oven to 425. Cut a small slit in each date, take out the pits and fill with the cheese. Slice each piece of bacon crosswise into thirds (3 pieces). Brush the bacon with the parika. Wrap the dates with the bacon. Have the paprika side facing in, towards the date. Attach each piece of bacon with a toothpick. Roast 6 minutes per side. Serve slightly warm with ample amounts of bubbly. Yum.

Passover

I love Passover. Most Jewish holidays are kinda depressing (well compared to Christmas). Passover is about freedom. I totally dig that. Plus, matzoh ball soup is involved, one of my favorite comfort foods, especially when I feel like ass. On Passover I get to make food that reminds me of family and gatherings. Erik and I made up our own traditions for Passover. During sedar we have philosphical discussions about the concept of freedom. This year I am not quite sure how much discussing will be going on, since there are three 14 month olds to contend with. We are making some yummy food though. I made a mocha tofu filled almond cake with dark chocolate ganache. It is made with agave nectar instead of sugar. I hope there is some left for our guests tomorow. I keep eating it! Even though there is no sugar it still tastes decadent, almost like tiramisu, but not. We are also going to make a 5 hour roasted chicken. The chicken comes out moist and succulent. Hopefully, the skin comes out crispy. We are trying a new recipe this year called Passover Puffs. Essentially, they are little souffle looking things made with spinach, mushrooms, carrots, and matzoh meal. Anything is better than the usual kugel. I am not sure about the veggie yet. First, I want to see what looks good at the market tomorow morning. This year I am not making the soup until after Passover. I wanna cook down that yummy carcass we're roasting tomorow and use that.

This will be a weekend full of cooking. On Sunday we are going to Katy (eek...it's kinds like venturing over the bridge in to Jersey from Philly) for Easter, so I am making strawberry shortcakes, with agave nectar. Since strawberries are in season here if it comes out well maybe I will post the recipe. If you're lucky!

Oh, and I will also try to remember my matzoh ball soup recipe as well. Have a happy and healthy weekend.

A bit of quiet

Through out my life I have always yearned. Since moving here I wanted to to home, missed my friends, the East Coast, pizza, bagels, good Italian restaurants. I even missed assholes (They have them here...they just come in the form of Christian right fundamentalists and yeehaws...New York has a different type of asshole, perhaps I should call them...douche-bags, sorry dad). New York and Jersey accents are coveted by me, like a breathe of fresh air actually (I think that may be apart of the reason why I love my acupuncturist...he is from Jersey). Erik and I continually had the conversation about moving home. When Maya and Amara were born I spoke of when I'd go back to work. I figured after they were a year I'd start looking for a job. After they turned 9 months I began thinking about how we should move in to a bigger house. I am always wanting more, bigger, better. Sometimes all that wanting makes me loose sight of all the amazing things that are happening now, here, in this very moment. I think finally I am starting to "get it". Perhaps (scoff, pshah, yeah right) I am growing up. It is about friggin time.

Instead of trying to figure out what's next I am enjoying what's now (at least for today). I like being home with Maya and Amara. It has been beautiful outside. I try to take the girls outside to enjoy the blooming flowers and sun. I cannot forget to turn my music up and to sing, loudly, even if the windows are open. When I cook dinner it is not always about what needs to be chopped or diced, but about the joy of doing, and the delicousness that comes out of it. A free minute relished. The small, cherished, at least for the moment. A sort of quiet peace has entered my life. Do not get me wrong, I still yearn, but if we stay in our house that is OK. I will work at some point, but for now I am not, and I am enjoying it. My life has been full of adventure, and I am sure it will continue to be. Sometimes it is nice to just be in it instead of contemplating the darn thing all the time.

San Antonio

Erik, the gals and I went to San Antonio this weekend. We thought it would be a great learning experience for ALL of us, and a nice prelude to our big trip to Philadelphia and Jersey in June. The girls were fabulous. They slept through the night, napped well, and had a good time eating different food. We stayed at a Marriot Residence Inn, which is perfect for families. The room had a kitchen equipped with an oven, toaster, and even a dishwasher. Also, there were two bedrooms, so the girls stayed in one room, and we had our own. Last time we went away Erik and I had to eat take out in the hallway leading to the bathroom, whispering in the dark, as the girls slept, so two rooms was a nice change of pace! We even got to watch a movie (Slumdog Millionaire...awesome). Of course before we left I read Zagat's, so I knew exactly where I wanted to eat lunch and dinner during our stay.

The first night we hit the river walk. The river walk is GREAT!!! The riverwalk is a meandering, cobblestone walkway with waterfalls, the occasional duck, beautiful trees and restaurants along a natural river that runs through San Antonio. Most of the places are kinda touristy, but there are also some great restaurants along the river. Plus, it is great to eat on the water and people watch. We walked along the river with the stroller until we had to keep picking the darn thing up. There are lots of steps, bridges, and bumpy crevices along the pathway. Plus, some parts of it are narrow...not fun with a stroller at all. The next night we walked along the street above and took an elevator down to where we needed to be. It was a lot more pleasant.
The first night we ate at Boudros, a Texas bistro. It was wonderful. The gals had grilled fish with fries and veggies that came with a remoulade. We all ate guacamole prepared table side which was delicious. They smoked their own serranos and added fresh squeezed orange, something I never thought of adding before. Orange juice added a great citrusy punch to the guac. The girls loved watching the waitress prepare the guacamole tableside as well. Also, while eating on the river they saw their first ducks. Boudros has a barge that people can eat on, as they float and ride around (how fun!). Our table was right next to the barge. The girls loved watching the boat bob, sway, and take off. I ordered duck three ways. It came with a duck confit eggroll, which I gave to the girls because I was not in the mood for it. There was also a roasted leg with a cherry sauce. It was AMAZING, fall off the bone good. The third duck was chopped in a Lousiana style red sauce that had a spicy bite. Amara actually was grabbing it and eating the duck straight off my plate. Erik ordered a chicken chop with avocado rissoto. He gave me a perfect bite, yum. We all had a wonderfully relaxing night.
The next day we got lunch from Texas Farm to Table. Texas Farm to Table is a place that has boxed lunches made with mostly local products. The ham in Maya and Amara's sandwich was made in New Braunfels, it was a thick, juicy slab o' meat and really smoky. There sandwich came with on think slices of bread with lots of roasted red peppers and melted swiss cheese. I got the vegie sandwich which was carrots, zucchini, hummus, chive cream cheese and mushrooms on whole wheat toast, and Erik got grilled chicken with more of those roasted peppers. The sandwiches came with pasta salad and fruit. I was disappointed that Erik and the gals' sandwich seemed like the same thing with different meats added, but they were both tasty. Furthermore, on the website it said the packaging the lunches came in were compostable, but it was the same old plastic containers with the "2" on the back of em'. Oh well. Lunch was easy and healthy, and that suited us just fine.
We ate in Hemis Fair Park near the playground. The playground was kinda nasty. There was lots of garbage in the mulch and three bums chilling out on the park benches. I wished it was cleaner because it had some fun looking mazes and slides to explore. The park was created for a World's Fair. There were interesting looking man-made waterfalls. We also checked out the Alamo. It was right next to the hotel. The mission and church of the Alamo were quite beautiful, despite all the death that occured there.
Our second and last night in San Antonio we ate at Acenar. Before we left my friend, Jenn, told us to check out the restaurant in Hotel Valencia. I picked Acenar because it had a high food rating in Zagats. I had no idea it was in Hotel Valencia, go Jenn! Hotel Valencia actually housed Citrus as well, another really cool looking restaurant, as well as a very happening looking lounge. Acenar was a bit off the beaten path; towards the business district and away from all the other restaurants. We loved it! It was a modern Tex-Mex menu, with baby goat and slow roasted pork on the menu. The salsa came in a fluted glass vase. It was not too spicy and had a great, smoky flavor, addictive. I was not too impressed with the wine menu...it contained Woodbridge (a turn off for sure), but they had prosecco (sparkling Italian wine), so I was happy. Erik drank about three of the fresh lime juice margaritas. For the girls we ordered mushroom crepes that came with an avocado creme as well as the empanadas. The crepes were made with cornmeal. They were simple and perfect for the glas. The empanadas had an extremely spicy sauce on it, which would not come off. I wish they put it on the side, since I was even having issues with how spicy it was. I was boring and ordered fish tacos, but Erik got gulf blue crab tinga tacos. Tinga means it is sauted with onions, tomatos, and garlic. His tacos were juicy, filled with heaps of crab, and straight up delicious we loved them.
On our way out of San Antonio Erik got breakfast tacos at Torres Taco Heaven. He got the chorizo, egg, and potato taco, as well as the ground beef or pico taco. Both tacos came on homemade flour tortilla. The beef, as Erik tells me, is all about the flavoring. For me tacos are all about the tortilla, if it is not homemade...yuck. The beef was tangy and well seasoned, the chorizo, soft and not too spicy, and the tortillas did not get soggy. Yum. Oh, and of course on the way back I had to stop in Luling for the que'. I got myself a meat sampler of ribs, sausage and of course, brisket at Luling City Market. This place is the real deal. You get your meat in the back, by the smokers. It comes in brown paper, with some sliced onion and a pickle if you ask for it. If you really want sides you gotta purchase that at the front. Erik actually said it was the best sausage he ever had, a lofty statement coming from the meat-loving man. It was pretty damn tasty. The ribs had a perfect crust, and the brisket was thick and did not need any sauce. Luling is known as one of the best places for bbq in the country, damn straight. It would make a vegetarian a meat eater. The shit was no friggin joke.
One pound on the scale later we are back and getting in the swing of our lives again. I love road trips and am happy that we now have the confidence to take them with the gals.

Reef restaurant

This past weekend Erik and I went out to dinner at Reef restaurant. I was incredibly excited to try Reef. Bon Appetit magazine named the number one seafood restaurant in the country, an incredibly lofty statement. Bryan Caswell, the chef, has worked for Jean Georges and it shows. Reef uses seasonal ingredients and locally sources his fish. I wish more places would start doing this. Plus, Bryan Caswell, the chef and owner, gets his fish from Airline Seafood on Shepherd. Airline Seafood has beautiful, gleaming, fresh fish mostly from local resources.
Reef is reminiscent of the ocean. Along one wall is relaxing white waves. The candles and light fixtures almost reminded me of coral. Additionally, the tables are made of mother of pearl, mimicking white sand and the wine cellar almost reminded me of being encased in an aquarium. The whole vibe of the place was completely transporting.
Reef has really interesting fish selections, like sea bream, tile fish, and amberjack. There was even something his friend caught in a spearfishing competition that he drove over to the restaurant because he wanted it to be on the menu, how cool!
The bread, which kind of reminded me of the stuff you get at bbq joints, was a white, mini burger roll looking thing that came with jalapeno jelly (so Texas). I loved the idea of the jelly, but I wish the bread was a bit more refined for such an amazing place. The jelly was great though.
We ordered the kanzuri cured yellow tail in cucumber water. The waitress told us that kanzuri is a chili paste from the mountains of Japan where the peppers have been exposed to the snow. I was really excited to try it. When the dish came I immediately dipped my piece of fish in the paste. It was a bit over powering. I liked it better with a smidgeon of the paste and the cucumber water. The dish was light and had really bright flavors. It was a perfect start to a meal.
For our main dishes we ordered redfish on the half shell with fried macaroni and collard greens and asparagus tips dressed with what tasted like asian fish oil as well as the grilled scallops with the truffle polenta and mushroom ragout. We also ordered a side dish of the fries with the Sriracha Remoulade because it was listed on the 100 Southern foods you must have before you die...and let me tell you that list was RIGHT!
The food took about an hour to arrive. I was starting to get cranky and give our server the hairy eyeball towards the end. I like to linger and enjoy my meal, but we felt a bit forgotten about.
The fried macaroni and cheese was divine. It came out in a square surrounded by a crispy bread crust, so each bit had crunch to it. The collard greens were perfectly salty and sweet. The redfish was OK though. It was seasoned well, with traditional Lousianan spices, but it was just a tad overcooked. The fish was moist, but not as much as it should have been considering how fresh it was. It came with the scales in tact, which is why it says its on the half shell. All in all I expected a bit more from the fish. The grilled scallops were also OK. They were excpetionally fresh, bit I wanted more of a nice, grilled crust on the outside. They were a little soft. The polenta was nice, but I did not taste truffle. I enjoyed the meal, but perhaps other dishes may have been better. The fries and Sriracha Remoulade were phenonmenal. I wanted to like the dish (I am not kidding). I am on a mission to replicate the dip which I think was a combination of oil and egg (mayonnaise) combined with sriracha, lime, and salt, heaven.
Overall is was a good dining experience. I want to go back and try the mussels and crab cake. Supposedly one of the soux chefs that created the recipe is from Baltimore, so that crab cakes gotta be good. Erik and I will be back to give it another chance. There were many dishes on the menu that sounded interesting, plus I gotta have that remoulade again. Go.

reefhouston.com
2600 Travis

My new food idea and lamb stew with papperdele recipe

I have been trying to figure out how to incorporate food onto the blog...you know since it is called "The Kitchen Table and all. The list with what my family was eating for the week did not work. Since I am technologically inept it just ended up pissing me off. Instead I will experiment with adding a few recipes a week that my family particularly loved. Many friends ask for recipes and have questions about what my wee ones like to eat...so I will post that on the blog as well. Oh, and my agave nectar recipes too, for those that want some yummy, somewhat healthy (sometimes really healthy actually) sweet treats that you will NOT feel guilty about eating. AND to overwelm you just a bit more I thought I may also write about all my great food finds as they occur (just in case you are interested).

This week I made a really great, warming lamb stew. For the past few weeks in Houston it has been HOT, at about 80 degrees. This past week it was COLD at about 48 degrees (I have become such a wimp!), especially after we started to get used to the warm weather. The lamb stew was perfect for a cold, rainy Friday night. It was one of those stick to your ribs meals. Yum. Oh, and I got the recipe from Everyday Pasta by Giada (one of my favorite chefs).

Lamb Stew with Papperdele (this recipe fed 3 people). We drank a nice, hunky malbec with this. It went well.

Papperdele is a thick, wide pasta. I sops up juices very nicely. Giada says fresh pasta is best, but my market did not have any and the dry was still delicious. Also, cipploini onions are sooo yummy. They are super sweet. Maya ate them plain. If I had a restaurant cippolini would be a name I'd contemplate for it. It is such a cool word, cippolini.

tablespoon or so of olive or grapeseed oil
1 pound of lamb sirloin (ask your butcher to cut it into 1 and half to 2 inch pieces. Also you can use boneless leg of lamb. I found sirloin easier because it was already trimmed of the fat and cheaper too).
2 tablespoons of flour (white or whole wheat...you just need enough to coat the lamb).
2 pieces of garlic minced
1/4 cup of dry red wine wine
1 3/4 cup of beef broth
1/2 14 ounce can of diced tomato with the juice
1/2 tablespoon of tomato paste
1 carrot cut into one inch pieces
9 cippolini onions
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 package of papperdele
two tablespoons of parsley
1 1/2 tablespoon of butter
1/8 (or more) cup of parmesean cheese (freshly grated)

Leave the lamb out to rest for about 15 minutes while you prep everything. I usually prep, by the way, when my daughters are sleeping. If your kids are awake give them some mixing bowls and spatulas to play with. If you do not kids, open up that bottle of wine your are going to use and pour yourself a hefty glass. Shit, if you do have kids pour yourself an even heftier glass!

Salt and pepper the lamb. Add the oil to a heavy sauce pan. Coat the lamb in a bowl with the flour. Brown the meat, about 5 minutes or less a side. Take the meat out and add the garlic, stirring until fragrant, about a minute. Add the wine and get those nice brown bits off the bottom of the pan. Let the wine reduce to half then add the broth. Add the lamb back into the pan. Let lamb cook with lid slightly open for an hour. Meanwhile boil some water and add the cippolini onions. Cook for about 2 minutes. Take the onions out with a slotted spoon. When they cool peel off the outer layer and cut off the stringy parts. After the lamb cooks for an hour add the onions and carrots and cook for 25 minutes more with the lid off. Meanwhile boil a pot of slated water. Boil the pasta, if dry, for about 9 minutes. When the pasta is done toss it with the parm and the butter. When plating use bowls. Add the pasta, pour a little stew over the papperdele, and sprinkle some pasta on top. Enjoy!!!!

Boob feeding

Four days ago I finished breast feeding Maya and Amara. I thought when I'd be done it would be a relief, but I am actually kind of sad. Breast feeding was beautiful. It gave me a whole new perspective on life. Being a woman and being able to provide for one's children on that level...there is nothing else like it. Literally, I gave the girls my self. Woman who do it are rock stars.
Initially breast feeding was not easy. In fact, breast feeding the girls was one of the hardest things I have ever done (aside from birthing them). Women do not usually talk about how hard breast feeding is at first. Many women cannot handle it. Breast feeding, plus new babies mixed with a huge jolt of hormones is just too much. I was determined to feed them. Nothing was going to stop me, not burning nipples, blisters, leakage ALL over the house, or the occasional clogged duct.
The first few months were incredibly difficult. In the middle of the night my breasts would start burning horribly. The only thing that would help relieve the pain was hot water. I showered twice a day with the hottest water my body would allow pounding on my poor, sore boobies. It felt like they were almost frost-bitten, but instead of fingers and toes it was mammary glands. Before I fed the girls I would put my boobs in a measuring cup of hot water and stand by the kitchen window into my neighbors horribly ugly backyard. I did this 6 or more times in a 24 hour period. Around this time the blisters on my nipples started. I had to make twice the amount of milk, so my boobs were incredibly full (I mean bigger than Dolly Parton...not sexy at all REALLY, plus Erik could not touch them because of the PAIN, so fellas get that idea out of your head...it was not AWESOME). There was no relief to the blisters because the girls were constantly sucking on where they were. As I fed them I would scream out in pain and cry. It felt like torture. Most people would have stopped feeding their children at this point. I kept on going. We bought heating pads. I used those heat packets and walked around with them in my bra all day (because the burning thing started to occur during the day too). When my boob would get clogged I learned another type of pain. Clogged boob is when the milk cannot come out, it gets stuck, and it is not comfortable. I would have to vigourously massage the boob as the girls would suck the milk out. When my boob unclogged milk would spew out of me like a gyser.
At about 4 months it got better, but it took that long. The girls became better feeders. It got to the point where I could just lay down. They would crawl up, nuzzle in to me and feed. All that crap I went through was totally worth those moments when the three of us would cuddle together as they fed. It was heaven. The most natural thing in the world happening since humankind began. It got so much easier. I am so glad that I trudged through all that bad stuff because in the end it was wonderful, that connection...unexplainable. I am proud to. Pretty cool. I will miss it.

My intention (or there lack of)

I am trying to figure out what the intention of my blog is. What do I want to get out of it? Where are my posts going. Lately I have been really hesitant to write. I even skipped a week. It felt more...public. I wrote the post about my whole "smelling" experience and someone got offended. It made me feel...like I had to be careful. Edited. It is really hard for me to feel edited. It is just not in my nature, but I also do not want to hurt people. Plus, at the time it was the only, "comment" to speak of...that just seemed like bad mojo. I even made one of my best friends and husband write a comment to make the one really bad one seem better. Sad huh? I had no idea the woman I wrote about even found me. I am not even sure how.
My writing is just beginning, again, and I am really new at the whole blog thing. I know I have to be mindful of my subject matter and who reads what I write. I know one day when I may be looking for a job my coworker or potential boss may see this, but I have never been the kind of person who "thinks" about what I write or say for that matter...this has gotten me in to trouble numerous times. Erik thinks I should shut this blog down or just write about food on this blog and start another "shadow" blog anonymously, so I may write FUCK as much as I want.
I want this blog to be my truth, whatever that may be in the moment. Sometimes I will write about food or a great restaurant (or not so great) or an awesome meal I made or ate, but sometimes I will write about my fears, issues, memories, or whatever is in my heart at that moment. So, the subject of the blog, for the moment, will be "my truth". It is my special place where I get to explore the different aspects of who I am. It is public for all to see. Sometimes I tell people I have a blog and blush...I am not sure if what I have to say has any relevance to others, but I am also not sure that really matters. I have to be OK with that.

Yet another crazy dream...

Last night I had a nightmare. I was on a city street, walking when all of the sudden a bus driver went completely rogue. The bus was trying to slam in to people and going on the sidewalks. It seems almost cartoonlike. The bus would sway over, hit people. The bus seemed as if it was aiming for me. Each time it would aim for people it would just miss me by a hair. I would jump back and press myself against a store window or hide in an alley to get away from it. It seemed never-ending, as if I had no where to go. Is there a huge bus coming to run me over? Is this a signifier of the fear I feel sometimes in life, as if something huge is about to come and wipe all this beauty away. On some level am I the crazy bus driver trying to run myself over? It sure feels like that sometimes.

I get in the way of myself. I am what stops “me” most of the time. I can blame it on time, a hangover, my husband or kids, but really that is a bunch of horseshit. When they say you are your worst enemy it is completely true. Shit is always going to be in the way, my shit. Usually, the crap that is in the way is inside though, lurking and sneaky. Sometimes (well most of the time) it comes out when I am driving…though now when I curse I have to spell out, “F-U-C-K”. When you have to spell out your curse words they loose their luster. Trust me, not as much fun. At the gym I’d kick and punch at it, sweating and grimacing it out of my body. Most of the time I do not even realize all that crap is there, unless I breathe and FEEL it. It is that stuff that compresses my spine. “It” catches up to me when I am dreaming in the form of crazy drivers; how incredibly ironic.

Oh, and I got a ticket on the day that I write this...it must be a sign. Argh.

What I carry

I keep thinking about burdens. The stuff we carry on our backs and in our hearts. How we pass the burden on to the next generation for them to hold onto.
My shoulders hurt way too much these days. I carry my burden there. The load keeps me up at night. At 3 in the morning I am inspired my brain ticking along with the clock, twisting and turning.
This week I found myself yelling at the girls, "No". Maya stiffens her body, bangs her head into me, crys out. How do I let her know she should not throw her food on the ground? It is not safe to go into the computer area with all those wires, "no".
All she hears is yelling, my tone of voice, and she sees the look on my face and thinks...bad (or so I imagine). I do not want to give yelling to my daughters. In front of them I yell when I am mad. Mad means anger. I have had enough with anger. Anger stews and festers. Anger is in my blood. It is exhausting.
What I must do is talk. Tell Maya it is dangerous to go in the computer area. I love her and do not want her to get hurt. One day she will get it.
Yesterday the girls were in their fort. I joined them. It is safe in there. The light reflects through the holes on the roof. The fort protects. It is private. I like it and understand the need to hide, but I do not want them to have that need. I do not want them to understand, go inside.
What it comes down to is pain. The need to protect. I must protect them from me. I must let the burdens go. They will not be passed on. All of it ends here, with me.

How I fell out of teaching: Part II

There was the incident, then there was the aftermath. Going to work every day became a living hell for me. I did not know who was saying all this crap about me. After I really thought about it (oh and I did) none of it really made any sense. Was I detoxing because I quit smoking? Did I eat tuna one day and smell afterwards? Should I take garlic out of my diet? These thoughts were absolutely ridiculous, and why should I even have had to worry about such utter nonsense. Looking back on all of it now, the situation almost seems unreal, like some kind of freakish nightmare, but it was real.
People were talking. My class was observed by one of the Assistant Principal's. He actually had the nerve to say to me during a professional review of my work that he walked passed me every day to see if maybe it was my breath that smelled, but he could never smell anything. He actually said this to me. I am not making this shit up. I had to get to the bottom of things. I had a feeling the "smell rumour" had something to do with the other woman I shared a room with, Jody. Jody did not like me, that was already apparent. The two of us were around the same age. She was tenure, so I think she thought perhaps she was entitled to things. For instance, she only "allowed" me to use a quarter of the chalkboard. Also, I had a small piece of a desk to place my handouts. She'd write me strange notes about cleaning issues in the classroom instead of actually speaking to me as an adult. I let her have her board and the desk because it did not really matter to me, yet seemed incredibly important to her.
I had two classrooms. Having two classrooms and no desk of any sort can take its toll on a frazzled person such as myself. Every day I'd forget a hand out and every day I'd have the same sweet, trustworthy student go get whatever it was that I needed. One day, my student told me she would not go get my stuff. I asked why. She seemed uncomfortable and said, "The teacher in your other room does not like you, and she is not a nice person". Hmmmm...It turned out that Jody was talking to the students about me. I am not sure if she brought it up to them or vice versa, but I found out that she told students to go to the principal to tell them I smelled. She also told them to tell their parents as well. Wow.
I went to my department chair and the principal. This woman helped create a horrible rumour about me. What she did was horrible and downright mean. Because of her I had to regain the respect of my students. Teachers were talking about me. I cannot believe I had to deal with this kind of crap where I worked. We had a meeting. She said the students were complaining, "what was she to do?" Poor thing. After the meeting she actually hugged me in front of the office. I let her. Ugh!
School starting to make me nauseous. It was around this time that I began having sleep issues. I started taking sick days, so I could sleep. Going to work became really hard. I actually started going to a healer to resolve all the issues I was having. Every day I had to force myself to go to teach with my head held high.
The next year I would have had tenure. I could have done what I wanted to. All that hard work, all that bol shit that I had to deal with through out the year because of that rumour with students would not have mattered anymore. I do not think that Jody should have gotten off so easy. Teachers are supposed to be role models and act like professionals. At the end of the year we got our placements for the following school year. I never went to my department chair to tell him what grade or level I wanted to teach. He gave me the worst possible schedule. I actually would have had to teach in both buildings (it takes 15 minutes to get from one side to the other). In my mind my schedule was just another nail in the coffin. I knew at that point that Erik and I were moving to Houston. I could not stay at that school. At the time I felt like I rather start somewhere new, learn a new curriculum. My last year in Philadelphia I took another job at a new school. Now, I realize that the whole smelling thing was really the beginning of the end. I was done with teaching then, even though I taught at another school for a year. My heart was just not in it anymore.
It has been about 6 years since I taught in New Jersey. I still wonder if I really did smell. Maybe I did for about a week when I quit smoking, maybe not. I will never know, but nor do I really care. People can be incredibly cruel. Mostly, cruelty stems from something else. Usually, its their own shit that they need to deal with. The whole thing was very strange.
I know I always say that the universe gives us signs. I felt like the whole mess was a huge, blaring billboard telling me that there was something else out there for me, something more. Oh, and I was right. I am not sure what the hell that is yet, but it will come.

How I fell out of teaching

About 6 years ago I worked at a school in New Jersey. For the first two years that I worked there I taught 9th grade, but 12th grade was what I really loved. The school as huge. It took me at least 15 minutes to walk from the 11-12 wing to the 9-10 wing, if I was walking fast. My third year I started teaching 12th grade, so because of the distance factor it was like having a new job, new kids, new colleagues, and a completely different working environment. I even had a new boss, or in teacher terms...principal, Joe.
In about November or December (I totally forget) there was a message from the principal to "see him" on the sign in sheet, ALL of my colleagues saw this. Furthermore, NO ONE was called in to the principal's office, unless you were screwed or some shit hit the fan. I had no clue what I did. I was sweating, embarassed, and downright nervous. I mean I said a lot of contraversial crap to my students to initiate discussion, that was my deal, but they knew that. What could I possible have done? At the time I was grading journals, so when I walked in to the office I was attempting to balance about 30 journals on top of my teaching materials. I must have looked like such an ass.
When I went into his office my old principal from the 9-10 wing was also present. I really started freaking out. It felt like the walls were closing in. My cheeks felt like they were burning. In high school I never got caught, so I never had to go to O'Brien, my principal's, office. Well...maybe once for smoking, but whatever. All I gotta say is even as an adult two principals in one office, scary. I thought I was getting fired. The presence of the two of them also immediately put me into defense mode.
They had this amazing lead up. Actually the two of them seemed nervous. It was all, "blah, blah, blah...and the other principal, who was a lady by the way, is here because I thought a lady should be present." What? Then, they proceeded to tell me that two teachers and students complained that I smelled. Parents called. My first reaction was to laugh. I mean I thought I was getting fired. Smell? Now that is a new one. I asked them if they could smell me. They said, "Well, no". OK.
Everything after that was kind of blurry. I awkwardly grabbed my journals and walked to the teacher's lounge. At some point I started to panic and called my mom. Mom was confused. Normally, I do not call her from work. Oh, and I was crying. Not only was I crying, but it was those tears that you cannot help. I could not force them down or away. She told me to calm down. I was not making sense. In fact, smell? The woman thought I was crazy. "Get out of there" she said. "Drive." Irrationally, I went back to the principal's office. I felt ashamed, mortified, and confused. I told them if there was a problem it would be rectified. I actually said that. I told him I have great respect for myself, that I am clean. I really friggin said that. Ugh.
Before I left the school I went to a friend's classroom room. She and I shared a classroom for one period a day. I told her what happened, still crying. Afterwards there was silence. She had this strange look on her face. I wanted to back away, run as fast as I could away from her and that place. She said that sometimes I smelled like hoagies. Perhaps it was because I was so close to the Italian Market. Betrayal. Maybe I smelled? What the fuck? I went to her because she was my friend. I trusted her.
I went to CVS and bought spray, deodorant, and some nasty crappy lotion. Oh, and I was crying. I called Erik and told him what happened. He was confused. I was going to keep driving, not go back, ever. I could not go back there and stand in front of those kids. He told me to stay, keep me head high. No, I did not smell. He'd know, but maybe he didn't? The rest of the day was hell, a mixture of shame and paranoia, combined with peach melba sprays.
At the end of the day I went to Blue Mercury. I told the saleswoman that my boss said that I smelled. She could not smell me. She said I smelled fine. I bought Fresh brown sugar everything, even the deodorant. Usually spending an exboritant amount on fun beauty products is fun. Not this time. (to be continued)

Menu Jan. 19-23rd

Since the blog is called "The Kitchen Table" I thought it would be fun to write out my menu for the week. I wish I could list it on the side of the blog, but I am not sure how to do that (and if you know could you please help me?) . This week I am trying to add more vegetables to our diet. We have a ton of Chinese cabbage in our garden as well as mustard greens. It is so friigin cool to actually eat stuff from my own garden, even if it is bitter it just tastes better. Plus, talk about being eco-friendly. All I had to do was go outside and pick it, so cool. Oh, and I always double my recipe, so there is extra for the girls, lunch, and just in case I do not feel like making dinner the next night...

Monday:
Cormeal and parmesean encrusted tilapia with raw tomato and scallion sauce (a la Rachel Ray with a twist) with roasted new potatoes and brussel sprouts

Tuesday:
Farfalle with gorgonzola mushroom sauce (a la Giada). This dish was soooo easy to make. It really did actually take a half an hour, seriously. All you have to do is make a roux (which is one part butter to two parts flour), whisk in some milk, and add gorgonzola, yum. Oh, and saute up some mushrooms in oil...plus a cup of peas for color.

Wedsnesday:
Goat cheese stuffed portabello mushrooms (a la Bon Appetit) with braised chinese cabbage and mustard greens. I am so psyched to make these. They sound soooo good. I love anything that has to do with goat cheese.

Thursday:
Mustard breadcrumb chicken (a la Julia Child) with cauliflower feta rice salad (which I will be making up and, if good, posting)

Friday:
left overs!

Saturday:
Crispy black bean tacos with chinese cabbage slaw and feta (a la Bon Appetit). These are super simple and easy to make...I have never made them before, so I will let you know how they actually taste.

So, the stuffed portobello mushrooms were fantastic, and super easy to make...here is the recipe

Stuffed portabello mushrooms (makes 4)

Marinade:
4 portabello mushrooms
1/4 cup liquid aminos (or soy sauce)
1/4 cup madiera wine (not nec, but yummy)
1/2 cup grapeseed oil (or olive)
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 pressed garlics

Whisk all the ingredients together in a large shallow pyrex dish. Add mushrooms, gill side down. Marinade about 4 hours. Once in awhile spoon the mixture over the mushrooms.

Meanwhile make the stuffing...
about 1/2 an onion chopped
2 garlic chopped
fresh spinach, chopped
5 ounces goat cheese crumbled
1/4 cup plus 6 tablespoons of parmesean cheese
fresh (always!!!!) bread crumbs (just take old, stale bread and throw it in the food processor for a couple of spins) about 1/2 cup or more if needed
Salt and pepper to taste

Saute the spinach until wilted, about 2 minutes or less to keep those nutrients in, drain and squeeze out excess water. Saute the onion until soft, about 5 minutes, add garlic until fragrant about a minute. While the onion is sauting combine the goat cheese, 1/4 cup of the parmesean, spinach, and breadcrumbs. When onion/garlic micture cools a bit add it to your goat cheese mixture.

Drain marinade and put mushrooms in a shallow roasting pan. Roast mushrooms at 400 degrees for 15 minutes. After roasted add the goat cheese filling. Add filling to the gill side of the mushrooms. Sprinkle with 6 tablespoons of the parm cheese. Add a salad, and you got a meal.

How I fell in to teaching

"D" is for disappointment, "D" is for Danna. My father said this to me when I was in high school about my report card. I am not sure what the subject was, but I do not think it really mattered. It was said, and I took it to heart. The worst thing for me to be was a disappointment to my father. All I ever wanted to do was please him. Throughout my life I have struggled with this. I did not want to be a failure, so instead I became a perfectionist, with an extra dose of pressure. I am that person who is (usually) early, by about 10 minutes. In my classes in grad school I had to be the best student. I am proud to say that I had one B (and was pissed about it, since it screwed up my GPA). Disappointment I would not be.

Dad wanted me to be a lawyer. "Gordon and Gordon" the door would read. It would be the two of us, working together. It was ingrained in me. If I was a lawyer it would just about make my father's life. Throughout high school and college I assumed my father's dream as my own, realizing one day that I'd be miserable if I became a lawyer.

I had an epiphany while getting professor recommendations for law school. While I spoke to my law professor I realized that my heart was not in law. Actually while studying for the LSAT I became withdrawn, my roomate and good friend Georgia, asked me one day, "Where are you?" . At the time I had no idea.

I tool a walk and decieded to figure it out. During my walk I found myself sitting at the bus stop. I did not plan on taking the bus. I wondered where all the people were going. What their lives were like. What mine would be.

While I was dating the enigmatic, actor dude (who I am convinced now was probably excruciatingly gay) I met a guy who taught Bible school and worked with troubled youth (I think, life back then was kinda hazy). Coincidentally he was sitting next to me at the bus stop. He had a kid textbook based on the Bible with him. I told him how I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. He opened the text up. The page talked about how it does not matter how much money you have, what mattered was how you impact people. What mattered was love. A light dawned on me. I was not living my dream. What I needed was change.

I truly believe that the universe sends us signs. We just have to be aware enough to read them. I got up from the bench and went to talk to the English Department about teacher certification. After the English Department, I went to the loan office.

I realized that becoming a lawyer was not my dream. My dream was to help people. My dream was to write. My dream was to fall in love. Oh, how I wanted to fall in love, so much so, that sometimes my dream would get muddled and confuse me in to thinking perhaps that "this guy was the one". We live, and we learn.

I wanted, so badly not to disappoint my father. Calling him to tell him I was not going to be a lawyer was scary. Ironically, he was fine with it (at least he seemed to be for my sake).

The other day I was leafing through a book of poetry and an old card fell out. The card read, "To the greatest teacher from your students, Mom and Dad". I do not even remember recieving the card, but perhaps I was not such a disappointment after all.

Moving

Before children I used to work out. The gym was actually my favorite thing about Houston. Is that pathetic? It's called FIT. FIT was heaven compared to the gyms I am used to. It had a sauna and a steam room. Plus, the showers were actually clean and nice. The whole sauna thing was the deal breaker for me. I LOVE saunas. After I worked out I'd go in there, even in the hot, nasty Houston sweat bomb summers. In my head it would be like an Indian sweat lodge. I'd picture all my toxins leaving, meditate, do some Reiki on myself, talk out loud like a crazy person as I said my affirmations...unless some beatch was in there...how Zen of me.

Anyhow, I miss the gym. I miss MOVING. I miss sweating and the sauna. I miss yoga. Some people say they have the time, and that they can do it all, BUT they are LYING (sorry people you are). Sacrifices must be made when you have children. The one thing I miss the most is the gym. God, and that sauna...

In August I started walking with the girls. Walking helped me loose a few of those baby pounds. While I enjoy my walks with the girls I needed a bit more action and release. Whatever I did needed to be convenient and class oriented. I love the camraderie of classes. Plus, it allows me to hang out with adults (important really when you are hanging with 11 month olds all day and have whole conversations saying "ga" or "ada").

Two weeks ago I started going to Nia classes. They are AWESOME. Nia is a combination of dance, tai chi and yoga. It is movement with conciousness to music. I love it. It feels so nice to MOVE and express myself creatively. Plus, it makes me feel like a kid, and helps me release my emotions. Oh, and I am sore. I love that sore feeling after working out hard. I love being sweaty and feeling like I just did something entirely for me. Plus, I think it is helping me fall asleep.

I still walk for about an hour every day with the girls. We go even when it is a bit rainy and cold. It is good for them and good for me too. This week I started using the concepts I have learned in Nia when I walk. I am trying to bring conciousness to the movements in walking through deep abdominal breathing and concentrating on my steps. During the walk I actually picture us walking into good Reiki or light and do some symbols. I can feel the heat rising from the pit of my belly as I take the steps...It feels great. Plus, the girls get to benefit from all the good mojo.

Even though I do not have FIT anymore or the sauna, I am bringing the feeling I have from the sauna to my day. Pretty cool huh?

Clean Make Up

Last week I ceremoniously threw away all of my make up. Make up is filled with nasty toxic crap like parabens and sulfates as well as other yucky substances that are toxic and maybe even cancer causing agents? Everything that goes on our skin goes in to our system. I want my body to be free of all that stuff....don't we have enough toxic shit in our food?

I had really great stuff like NARS, YSL, Chanel, and Lancome. I paid some serious cashish for that crap. I feel like make-up companies should make the stuff healthier, and they should make buyers aware of what they are buying. It really friggin sucks. Weeks ago I went to Sephora and asked them if they could recommend some CLEAN make-up. Clean make-up means it is free of parabens, suflates, ethanols, amongst other nasties that I have no clue about. The sales lady was telling me to get Lorac. Maya, my daughter, was getting pissy, so I gave them my credit card. I know I should have checked the ingredients, but I did specifically ask for clean make-up. Recently, I read the ingredients in my eye shadow and it is filled with methylparabens. When I returned the make-up they were not sure which products were clean, which to me means SAFE. I went to the sephora web site and found some fantastic, beautiful, colorful products that are free of all things cancerous and gross. They are coming in the mail anyday and I cannot wait. It is sad that the sales people in stores such as Sephora are not more knowledgable about their products, but I bet it is because most people just buy this stuff. They do not give a crap about what is in it, or they just do not know to ask.

Now, almost all of my beauty products are completely natural (oh and totally fabulous too by the way). You can get some great chemical free make-up brands at Sephora like Josie Maran ( I got these shimmery, sparkling cream eye-shadow/blush/lip compact from her that looks fab). Tarte also makes a great eye-hugger mascara as well as a natural check stain (that I am buying next because I cannot stop thinking about it), but not all of tarte is paraben and sulfate free. You really have to read the ingredients before you buy. Korres, a Greek company, makes some great eye-liners as well (I just got one in brown). I am also thinking about buying Korres concealer. I cannot wait for my package to come!

Not Fading Away

Sometimes I feel like I am loosing some huge part of me, almost like I am fading (even though I know that is not true). When we first moved here I went to therapy. I figured I should probably go before I got married, and considering the new occupation I planned on...I discovered that a huge fear I had was fading away.

When I was a teenager I'd write about it constantly in my poetry through the metaphor of the abyss and the feeling of falling. Now, it manifests itself in my dreams. I have these recurrent dreams of trying to find my way home. I have to cross bridges with gaps (Evel Kneival style), fly off of large buildings over apocolyptic war-like scenes, ask strangers in dark, foreign places for directions. Through out the dreams I must get home. It I do not it is almost as if I will disappear.

Home, in my dreams, was my old house on 122 Woodhollow in East Hills. Sometimes, home is Philly. Always in these dreams I am so far away. I need to get back there. I have to or else. I think on some level I fear that people will forget me, or that I will loose myself completely. The feeling is visceral, part of my gut.

They say that houses in dreams symbolize your soul. My soul was unsettled, searching, flying threw the night trying to figure out a place to call it's own.

The last time I dreamt about finding my way home was different. In one part of the dream I gave the driver directions to Philly. Once we got there I did not know where to go. It finally was not home. In the dream home was Erik and Erik was at Wilken St., Houston, Texas. The dream felt like closure on some level. I think I have finally accepted being here (it took long enough).

Since we moved here I have gone through so much. I went to school, got married, had two babies, and let go of some much shit. I was holding on to something. I was holding on to home. I kept talking about Erik looking for a new job and how we were going to move home. I would talk shit to my friends about it here. I was not truly being...home, settled and happy with where I actually was.

Erik and I live in a great place. I am making friends. Erik just got a new job. Our house is small, but wonderful. I have a garden and even grow some of my own vegetables (though they are a bit bitter). I am able to stay home with my kids. I think I also thought that on some level that meant that I was fading away, but my career does not define me. Being at home does not mean I am fading away. My colors grow brighter, my light grows stronger. Perhaps I am falling though, but now I am learning that falling is not such a bad thing, in fact it is wonderful because it means that I am free. I am home.