Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Louisiana Crab Boil


My pal, Emily, and her hubby, Chris, invited us to a "Louisiana Crab Boil" last weekend. Who says no to free crab?  You know you have a good friend when they invite you over for feast like this! It was much delicious with even better company!


The Master of Ceremonies, Emily's Dad, Gary.

This crab was lucky...


these clams were not!


I wish I'd remembered to get a picture of Emily and Chris! You'll have to settle for a shot of their mini-me, darling Greta!

What an amazing sight!


The first of many helpings! We were nibbling all night!
Thanks for the invitation, Baran Family! See you next year! 

(please please please let us make the guest list!)

"Summertime...





...and the livin' is easy." 

That's a line taken from one of my favorite arias, "Summertime" from Porgy and Bess. I have the song in my head a lot this time of year, as we enjoy the last long, lovely days of summer before the munchkins head off to school and the first cool pangs of fall are felt on our cheeks. The rest of the lyrics go like this:

"The fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high.
Your daddy's rich and your momma's good looking...
...so hush little baby, don't you cry."

I remember hearing Porgy and Bess performed in the Dayton when I was on a field trip elementary school. Despite being raised in a rather musical family, I'd never heard anything like it - an vocal opera performance; the image of the performance is a very strong childhood memory. Today, I enjoy vocal opera music more out of the appreciation of the performance (like, "WOW! I've never heard a voice so powerful!") than actual love of the sound, but I do have a few favorite opera moments, of which "Summertime" is near the top of the list. 

Here's some examples of how summertime has felt lately in the Morris house: 

Extrava"can"za 2010:

I would like to say my tepid venture into canning was inspired by THIS lovely post on my pal Megann's blog (take a look at those beautiful jars! Handmade labels and all! Bananas!) but the truth is, I've been appreciative--maybe just jealous?--of families that take the time to can for many years. Knowing my interest (obsession?), my hygienist, Angie, who is a skilled canner and gardener, was kind enough to gift me all kinds of canning goodies for my wedding shower last year. Last year, I never got around to making much of them. But this year... 

...this year, we had a bounty of Green Zebra tomatoes. BFF Kaye gifted me some of their heirloom seeds and have REALLY taken off! My garden is nothing special this year -- more of a tomato jungle than anything. It is neither as tidy or as diverse as last year, but fortunately it is just as fruitful. And, for the first month, the green zebras were very tasty with a little drizzle of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and sea salt...but we just couldn't keep up, lest our skin turn green and stripey like our friends depicted below!



So we cooked the zebras down...



And into sealed them into classic jars like this...



 so we can enjoy Salsa Verde for the whole year!


Yum! Special thanks to both grandmas for tips and encouragement. And of course, to RDH Angie for all the canning accessories and good canning vibes!

I also did a few jars of pizza sauce and two jars of blueberry jam. I'm just hoping I don't give anyone botulism...yikes!



Friday, August 20, 2010

FREEDOM

I was watching the Daily Show yesterday and caught a magnificent snippet of Americana. John Stewart was reflecting on the Ground Zero Mosque and the media maelstrom that has ensued, as certainly the Muslim community is vilified once again by American media. Of all people, Mr. Stewart deferred to Charlton Heston for wisdom on the matter. Mr. Stewart cites a speech given by Heston at the 1999 NRA annual meeting in Denver, Colorado, where NRA members were attacked from all sides for the horrendous tragedies befallen Colombine High School, the media shocked by the insensitivity of the NRA holding a rally so near and so soon. Heston's words on freedom deliver such insight, I was moved to blog them. And as I look around at media today, they are certainly applicable now, as Mr. Stewart so tactfully reminds us here.  Don't worry, its touching and funny, not scary.  (Scroll to the 7:30 mark...its a link to the whole episode, and who was time for that!) Heston's speech is eloquent and near poetic; he is a grand orator. No wonder he played Moses. :)

Below is the speech in entirety. Italicized parts are the meat and potatoes, in my opinion. Enjoy and reflect on the freedoms that define America and demand protection!



"I have been admonished not to be here, not to speak to you here. It's not the first time. In 1963, I marched on Washington with Dr. Martin Luther King, long before Hollywood found civil rights fashionable. My associates advised me not to go. They said it would be unpopular and maybe dangerous.

Thirty-six years later, my associates advised me not to come to Denver. They said it would be unpopular and maybe dangerous. But I am here. Let me tell you why.

I see our country teetering on the edge of an abyss. At its bottom brews the simmering bile of deep, dark hatred. Hatred that's dividing our country politically, racially, economically, geographically, in every way.

Whether it's political vendettas, sports brawls, corporate takeovers, or high school gangs and cliques, the American competetive ethic has changed from "let's beat the other guy" to "let's destroy the other guy." Too many are too willing to stigmatize and demonize others for political advantage, money or ratings.

The villification is savage. This week, Rep. John Conyers slandered 3 million Americans when he called the NRA "merchants of death" on national television, as the First Lady nodded in agreement. A hideous editorial cartoon by Mike Peters ran nationally, depicting children's dead bodies sprawled out to spell N-R-A. The countless requests we've received for media appearances are in fact summons to public floggings, where those who hate firearms will predictably don the white hat and hand us the black.

This harvest of hatred is then sold as news, as entertainment, as government policy. Such hateful, divisive forces are leading us to one awful end: America's own form of Balkanization. A weakened country of rabid factions, each less free, and united only by hatred of one another.


In the past ten days, we've seen these brutal blows attempting to fracture America into two such camps. One camp would be the majority - people who believe our Founders guarenteed our security with the right to defend ourselves, our families and our country. The other camp would be a large minority - people who believe that we will buy security if we will just surrender these freedoms.

This debate would be accurately described as those who believe in the Second Amendment, versus those who don't. But instead it is spun as those who believe in murder, versus those who don't. A struggle between the reckless and the prudent, between the dim-witted and the enlightened, between the archaic and the progressive, between the inferior citizens and elitists who know what's good for society.

But we're not the rustic, reckless radicals they wish for. No, the NRA spans the broadest range of American demography imaginable. We defy stereotype, except for love of country. Look in your mirror, your shopping mall, your church or grocery store. That's us. Millions of ordinary people and extraordinarypeople - war heroes, sports idols, several U.S. presidents and yes, movie stars.

But the screeching hyperbole leveled at gun owners has made these two camps so wary of each other, so hostile and confrontational and disrespectful, that too many on both sides have forgotten that we are, first, Americans.

I am asking all of us, on both sides, to take one step back from the edge of that cliff. Then another step and another, however many it takes to get back to that place where we're all Americans again...different, imperfect, diverse, but one nation...indivisible. This cycle of tragedy-driven hatred must stop. Because so much more connects us than divides us.  And because tragedy has been and will always be with us. Somewhere right now, evil people are scheming evil things. All of us will do every meaningful thing we can to prevent it. 

But each horrible act can't become an axe for opportunists to cleave the very Bill of Rights that binds us.


America must stop this predictable pattern of reaction. When an isolated, terrible event occurs, our phones ring, demanding that the NRA explain the inexplicable. Why us? Because their story needs a villan. They want us to play the heavy in their drama of packaged grief, to provide riveting programming to run between commercials for cars and cat food.

The dirty secret of this day and age is that political gain and media ratings all too often bloom upon fresh graves.

I remember a better day, when no one dared politicize or profiteer on trauma. We kept a respectful distance then, as NRA has tried to do now. Simply being silent is so often the right thing to do.

But today, carnage comes with a catchy title, splashy graphics, regular promos and a reactionary package of legislation. reporters perch like vultures on the balconies of hotels for a hundred miles around. Cameras jockey for shocking angles, as news anchors race to drench their microphones in the tears of victims.

Injury, shock, grief and despair shouldn't be "brought to you by sponsors." That's pornography. It trivializes the tragedy, it abuses vulnerable people, and maybe worst of all, it makes the unspeakable seem commplace. And we're often cast as the villain. That is not our role in American society, and we will not be forced to play it. Our mission is to remain a steady beacon of strength and support for the Second Amendment, even if it has no other friend on the planet. We cannot let tragedy lay waste to the most rare and hard-won human right in history.

A nation cannot gain safety by giving up freedom. This truth is older than our country. "Those who would give up essential liberty, to purchase a little telporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." Ben Franklin said that.

If you like your freedoms of speech and of religion, freedom from search and seizure, freedom of the press and of privacy, to assemble and to redress grievances, then you'd better give them that eternal bodyguard called the Second Amendment. The individual right to bear arms is freedpm's insurance policy, not just for your children but for infinite generations to come

That is its singular, sacred beauty, and why we preserve it so fiercely. No, it is not a right without rational restrictions. And it's not for everyone. Only the law-abiding majority of society deserves the Second Amendment. Abuse it once and lose it forever. That's the law. But remarkably, the NRA is far more eager to prosecute gun abusers than those who oppose gun ownership altogether..as if the tool could be more evil than the evildoer.

The NRA also spends more and works harder than anybody in America to promote safe, responsible use of firearms. From 38,000 certified instructors training millions of police officers, hunters, women and youth...to 500 law enforcement agencies promoting our Eddie Eagle gun safety program distributed to 11 million kids and counting.

But our essential reason for being is this. As long as there is a Second Amendment, evil can never conquer us. Tyranny, in any form, can never find footing within a society of law-abiding, armed, ethical people.

The majesty of the Second Amendment, that our Founders so divinely captured and crafted into your birthright, guarantees that no government despot, no renegade faction of armed forces, no roving gangs of criminals, no breakdown of law and order, no massive anarchy, no force of evil or crime or oppression from within or from without can ever rob you of the liberties that define your Americanism.

And when they ask, "So indeed you would bear arms against government tyranny?...The answer is, "No. That could never happen, precisely because we have the Second Amendment."

Let me be absolutely clear. The Founding Fathers guaranteed this freedom because they knew no tyranny can ever arise among a people endowed with the right to keep and bear arms. That's why you and your descendants need never fear fascism, state-run faith, refugee camps, brainwashing. ethnic cleansing, or especially, submission to the wanton will of criminals.

The Second Amendment. There can be no more precious inheritance. That's what the NRA preserves. Now, if you disagree, that's your right and I respect that. But we will not relinquish it or be silenced about it, or be told, "Do not come here. You are unwelcome in your own land."

Let's go from this place renewed in spirit and dedicated against hatred. We have work to do, hearts to heal, evil to defeat and a country to unite. We may have differences, yes. And we will again suffer tragedy almost beyond description. But when the sun sets on Denver tonight and evermore, let it always set on we, the people...secure in our land of the free and the home of the brave.

I, for one, plan to do my part. Thank you.


Sunday, August 8, 2010

Sunny Sunday


Over the past few days, I stumbled upon some well-timed words, all seeming very fitting and personal as I settle into my new "bachelorette pad" here in German Village. With sunshine pouring into my uncluttered living room, a cup of fresh Starbucks before me on my new table, and the bells of St Paul's Lutheran church literally ringing in my ears, I attempt to share them, hoping you find yourself inspired, much as I did! 

1. From a lonely Friday night, a diamond from my devotional, just perfect for when you are a little lost in your current state:

Philippians 4:8: (TEV)
 
"In conclusion, my brothers, fill your minds with those things that are good and that deserve praise: things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and honorable."

2. From Homegoods (why don't I shop there more?) on Saturday:


I liked this poster so much that I bought it. Total impulse purchase! When I got home, I researched the poster. Turns out, it's a reproduction from WWII-era British propaganda. Its 1939, British citizens were facing Nazi invasion, and this poster was supposed to make them feel all snugly in their beds at night. Fortunately, it was never used. Flash-forward to a second hand store in the year 2000, where it was discovered  and mass-produced for everyone's enjoyment. There are also parody posters, which display an upturned crown, and read, "Now Panic and Freak Out." So funny, those Brits!

3. From Mass this morning...I learned about being a watchful servant, among other things:
Luke 12:35-40 (NAB)

"Gird your loins and light your lamps and be like servants who await their master's return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks. Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival. Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself, have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on them. And should he come in the second or third watch and find them prepared in this way, blessed are those servants. Be sure of this: if the master of the house had known the hour when the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come."

Be alert, be waiting for God's commands. Be LISTENING. In my humble opinion, it sounds like its not enough to just do what God asks...we have to be ready and in anticipation for it. This was great -- our priest said, (paraphrase): "If your aging parents and grandparents call you, needing for you to do some task, like getting their groceries, because they physically unable to do at this time...do you drop what you are doing to help, or do you find some excuse and weasel out of it? Much is the same here, are you prepared to get God's groceries?" I just loved that.

I think its a lot easier to be "ready for God's call" when we are fueled up with 16oz of Starbucks Gold Coast blend. :). In all seriousness, its hard to be ready for any more tasks, divine or otherwise, when our lives are bogged down with work, families, commutes, fitness regimens, lists, and wants. True as is may be, my living room is uncluttered because I've no furniture, but we can squint our eyes and pretend the cushions on the floor are "Asian-inspired" seating. My delightful coffee this morning is served upon brand-new, cute, cheap, PATIO furniture, and I'll just turn a blind eye to the fact that the wicker is already crumbling below the weight of Lappy. I am hopeful my new shoes, special ordered from Saks, are going to feel MUCH better after I break them in a bit more (yesterday I napped in them!) 

So after all of the work moving in and on, I really feel a lot better, renewed and excited and prepared for the months ahead. Most of all, I know I'm listening and awaiting for God's call (which can be a little scary!), I'm calm and carrying on, and focused on what is lovely. 

At least for today. ;)

Good mood is also supported by a wonderful weekend with Mom. We toured the Dublin Irish Festival, ate the tasting menu at Barcelona (Hello my little chorizo friends!) and had lots of girltime. She is the bestest, that lady! Here are a few highlights from the DIF:



New friends!




An Irish wolfhound! The festival had a "Celtic Canine" exhibit! Not sure if Peanut would have fit in...



 
The girl from St. Patrick's and her parish namesake.
Happy Monday, all!


Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Moving Part I

So we're moving...sort of.

In the most complicated of moving stories, we are moving OUT of our duplex in German Village to the OTHER side of the same duplex. This means saying goodbye to our roommate, AJ, and also to 299 Siebert, which has served us so well for the past four years. 

I moved to German Village during residency, from the relative boondocks of suburban Columbus. I loved the rental condo on Bethel road, its 60" TV and on-site fitness center, but seemed to always find myself driving back downtown for a concert, cocktail or club. Life was so much more vibrant near High and Broad. Truth is, I see now that I was just growing up, exerting my independence, trying to create a life outside of school and work, and the pavement-bordered corporate offerings of suburbia just weren't cutting it anymore. Did I mention its also a 7 minute drive to Nationwide Children's? Indeed! So, we moved to 299 Siebert Street, just steps away from Schiller Park and Barcelona, and we have loved it ever since. It is one of the best decisions I've ever made.

After a few months on Siebert, our new friend Carla joined us there.  A few months later, her brother, AJ, joined the fun. A few more months later, lovely Carla married the lively Craig, and she returned to Cleveland and her northwest Ohio roots to make a home of her own. AJ has held it down at 299 even as I moved along--at least for part of the week-- to Jeremy's house in Ironton and my new practice.  

But now, as life is a woven web of spider silks, we are making our way back to Columbus. Hopefully one day we will live in ONE house, and I'll be able to keep some plants alive. I am so tired of coming home to dirty laundry and dead plants. It is difficult to stay on top of things when you are gone for half of the week. One day things will be different, but maybe not. I've come to terms with that. 

For now, I'm moving my things across the wall to 301 Siebert, a mirror image of our former Columbus dwelling. In the same fell swoop, I'm selling my old furniture to AJ...the Morris family currently has enough couches for THREE houses. Saying goodbye to the furniture has left me a little sad, in a way I didn't expect.

I bought the furniture with mom and dad, as a bright-eyed dental student on her first real day living in her new apartment in the big city. I felt very adult; the couches matched the coffee tables and it was NEW, aka not a hand-me down. I remember thinking the beige corduroy pattern reminded my of my Grandpa Schafer's chair, minus the patina of 15 years of use and the faint odor of gasoline. Schafer men will smell like nothing else for as long as I live.  I remember the couch as a soft place to fall, crying tears into its armrest pillows after declining an ill-timed engagement request. If you look closely, there is a small burn from wayward cigarette ash; the loveseat was the perfect place to lean against and out the window at the same time. I recall coffee tables dotted with pink denture wax, the leavings of countless hours spent on mediocre prosthodontic efforts. 

But now its time to say goodbye to the furniture and to 299. They are left in very good hands and have a bright future. As for my plants, we may never know. 

Onto bigger and better things, I'm sure. 


Sunday, August 1, 2010

I had the best post.

I had a 500-word post written about my upcoming move. It was moving and eloquent and lovely and I just lost it to internet limbo. 

Now I'm too tired to rewrite it. 

Try try again, tomorrow, I guess.