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It happens to all of us at one time or another. We get knocked down, either figuratively or as more usual in my case, literally. I am really quite clumsy as those near and dear to my heart will confirm. I could go on at length to recount stories of this physical ineptness, but I diverge.
Here in this blog post we are discussing the figurative falling down. Last week almost exactly at this time, I had an interesting conversation with a company’s recruiter about a very interesting job possibility. It was exciting to have someone contact me, pretty much out of the blue, about an interesting opportunity that would meld my love of writing with my capabilities as an attorney. The weekend that followed was one that I haven’t had in a while, daydreams full of possibilities about what might be while working on some supplemental documentation that was requested from me. I have learned that I am not a lucky one in a lot of respects and therefore generally resign myself to the pessimistic side of my own abilities and capabilities, but I succumbed on this one and actually became more and more intrigued by what seemed a pretty real potential opportunity and ever so slightly, more excited about this possible new chapter.
Did it work out? Short answer, no. Was I disappointed? Absolutely. But I did what a responsible adult that’s on the other side of the half-century mark would do (after my little emotional breakdown and pity party) and stood back up after that fall. I got up the next morning and did the job I have, not having the time to give much though to the remotely possible imaginary job I might have loved (or I might have hated). It was the stuff of daydreams and I had a great couple days imaging “what ifs” and feeling pretty flattered about being contacted at all. Lesson learned is that I was probably the most upset with myself that I let someone clear across the country have that kind of control over me and that I was that quick to fall. People don’t just get phone calls for potentially awesome job opportunities out of the blue that actually happen. At least not in my world.
If I were feeling optimistic, which I try to be, I would say that this means there is a better opportunity that awaits. Not sure I have gotten there yet. For now, I stood back up. That is enough.
This weekend’s project (which really did take most of the weekend) was to make tomato paste. I never tackled this before but seemed like it was a worthwhile project to use the overabundance of ripe Roma tomatoes that had suddenly appeared in the basement.
When they were predicting frost a few weeks back, I picked pretty much every single tomato that was left on the vine, most of them, sadly still green as anything. It always is such a pain to do pulling all the tomatoes, particularly when its usually last minute and freezing out, but it seems so wasteful to let these beautiful summer fruits just freeze on the vines. Hence, my basement is now filled with trays and trays of green tomatoes. The problem is that many of them decided to ripen simultaneously. So what does one do with a bounty of tomatoes? There are many things that you can do and I have done a lot of them, yet the tomatoes continue to ripen and beckon for someone to do something with them. This seemed the next logical step.
What is absolutely amazing to me is how concentrated it becomes. I started out with 10 lbs of Roma tomatoes, which is a lot of tomatoes for this batch of paste. I then split them in half, taking out the seeds and put them in a pot. Even split and cored, these tomatoes still filled a huge pot. The tomatoes boiled down for about an hour until they were soft. I then allowed them to cool and put them into the fridge overnight, for no other reason but my own schedule which did not permit me the time necessary for the next steps. The following day, I took those tomatoes out, put them through the food mill on a fine setting to get rid of the skins. I still ended up with a sauce pot full of cooked tomatoes. I added a couple teaspoons of kosher salt and allowed this to boil down for another hour or thereabouts until it was reduced by half. This mixtures was then spread onto a silicone sheet on a baking sheet (covering the whole sheet pan) and cooked for several hours — probably about 4-5 total at 200 degrees, stirring every 1/2 hour or so to keep it from burning until it was reduced down to a thick concentrated paste. This paste amounted to two tiny little jars of paste. But these are not just ordinary jars of paste, no sir, they are tiny little jars of summer. Summer concentrated and squeezed into half pint mason jars covered with a thin layer of olive oil.
They will now reside in my fridge and I will dip into them every time my cooking needs a little taste of summer. Covered with oil and refrigerated, they will last a year. Just in time to do it all again next summer.
I love the autumn — the crisp air, the colorful leaves, the warmth of the wood stove with a cup of tea and a good book. What I don’t like very much is when it’s dark in the morning and then dark again early in the evening. Evidently, I am not alone. The state of Massachusetts is exploring time travel of sorts. Massachusetts’ Bill H4569 creates a legislative commission to study the proposal of moving time in the state of Massachusetts. Rather than remain in the Eastern time zone, the bill charges the commission with exploring the possibility of moving time zones to Atlantic Standard time for a period of four months starting in the middle of November if the proposal was accepted. This would mean that folks in Massachusetts would have light lasting longer into their day. According to the Portland Press Herald, a sort of “sunlight happy hour” while the rest of us are in the dark before we leave our workday behind us during those months. Don’t get all practical on me with things like “it will mess up the rest of us” or “what about business hours and flight schedules, yada yada yada….” A girl can dream can’t she?
Now, if they could just make it so that the hour happened in the morning instead of the evening, I would be totally on board.
Sounds like a great mystery book or a movie title, but it’s not. This week in Vermont is Open Farm Week. It gives those of us who love to wander through farmers’ markets and eat fresh from the farm produce a chance to see what actually goes on at your favorite farm and learn more about agriculture and farming in our lovely state. This opportunity gives a whole new meaning to “learning where your food came from” as you have the opportunity to not only see where it came from, but meet the folks behind your favorite fare in their own environment — and even lend a hand and see what it’s like to be a farmer for a few hours. A great opportunity to gain even greater appreciation for the men and women who are behind the farmers’ market tables each and every week.
There are farms all over the state of Vermont that are opening their barn doors for you! Of course, Vermont farmers are so friendly and welcoming that you don’t need a special week to visit your favorite farmer. But, I digress.
Here is a sampling of some of the things you can do this week at a farm near you. You could even schedule a whole week of farm fun and take a tour of Vermont farms, taking in their uniqueness as each of these places puts their own special twist on farming and for that, we are very grateful.
Merck Forest and Farmland Center will teach you all about draft horses and maybe even get the opportunity to help drive them around the farm.
Health Hero Farm is having cooking classes demonstrating how to cook their fresh beef.
Have a Farm to Table Dinner by the gardens at Boyd Family Farm in Wilmington. The proceeds for this dinner go to charity.
Take a nature photography course at the Smokey House in Danby.
You can also visit an alpaca farm, visit a vineyard or visit a mushroom farm. There are lots of choices and really something for everyone. Take advantage of really learning where your food comes from this week. You’ll be glad that you did.
Here’s the recipe for bracciole, let me say up front that I cannot take any credit for the recipe, it is my mom’s and my grandma’s recipe. I am merely proud that I am able to continue the tradition.
- 6 pieces of bracciole meat (for those of you that are local to me Wallingford Locker has great bracciole meat)
- 12 slices of bacon
- 1 cup raisins divided into six portions
- 6 pieces of garlic finely chopped
- grated cheese of your choice (I use asiago or romano)
- salt and pepper to taste
- butcher’s twine cut into six pieces each cut about 2 feet in length
- Take meat and season with salt and pepper.
- Place two slices of bacon on each piece of bracciole
- Sprinkle with grated cheese of your choice
- Add one portion of raisins sprinkled on top
- Add one chopped clove of garlic to each piece of meat.
- Roll each piece up. I find that it is easiest to roll up starting from the smaller or thinner end. If any of the raisins or cheese fall out as you are rolling, just stick them back inside.
- When meat is rolled, tie each with a piece of butcher’s twine.
- Place in tomato sauce of your choice and cook on low heat for 3-4 hours. You could probably put them into a slow cooker with your sauce and cook for 6-8 hours although I have not tried this myself.
- When ready to serve, remove each bracciole packet from sauce, cut the twine off (this is important, no one likes string in their dinner!), slice each with a sharp knife into four pieces and serve.
Makes me so proud my heart feels like it will burst.
Made me a mom for the third time when he was born into our family.
Is funny and talented and handsome and smart.
Knows more history facts than most people I know combined.
Has a heavenly voice that I can listen to forever and ever.
Is going to do amazing things in the future.
Turns 19 today.
Happy Birthday Tim,
Love Mom (a/k/a your first and biggest fan)
The Fourth of July is a colorful holiday. The red, white and blue of the flag and patriotic decor is everywhere. Fireworks fill the dark night sky with shades of pink, red, blue, yellow and green. This week, in the garden, another colorful explosion started to take place. Our lilies, which are a beautiful pale shade of pink. started opening one by one and now the flower bed is just full of beautiful flowers. The baby’s breath is spreading through the same bed. The perennials are making their appearance, one by one and color is coming, slow but sure, to the yard.
I have been so wrapped up in the things I have to get done that I have forgotten the pure pleasure I get from taking my camera outside and snapping some pictures, memorializing this brief, but beautiful, time of the summer. These pictures, like the flowers represented in them, have made me smile, capturing the color that the warm sun in July brings to the yard. I hope they make you smile as well. Happy Friday!
I have never had a great love affair with the news industry. I can never understand why the news is generally laden with all the horrific things going on in the world and they sometimes can tuck a “feel good” story somewhere in the broadcast to justify that it’s not all bad news. Why don’t we hear more of the good that goes on in the country and the world? Years ago, when we lived in New Jersey, our clock radio was set to a news station. I hated that before my eyes were even open for the day, I was bombarded with everything that was wrong with world and very little that was right. After hearing all the “news” I had little desire to even get out of bed and start my day – why bother? The world is a miserable place.
News reporting, in the present day, leans toward the sensational more than the factual. It seems to be the running fervently toward the “most sensational”, “most bloody”, “most outrageous” story. Our modern day news reporting in this country generally bears far more resemblance to the supermarket tabloid front pages of my younger days than to the noble art of journalism.
To that end, there were a significant number of of major newspapers in this country which ran various pictures of the person who was responsible for the Orlando shooting in yesterday’s front pages. His face was plastered across the news media outlets online and on television. I have a real problem with this. Why is his photo gaining this type of attention? This is not a manhunt, he is dead, therefore, no one needs to be “on the lookout” for him, no one needs to know what he looks like so he can be identified, captured and held accountable for his actions. There is absolutely no need, in my opinion, for the attacker to be personalized, for his name to spoken or written or his image flashed across the front page of newspapers and television screens. He gave little thought to the faces of the those that he killed, those that were injured, those who survived the deceased and whose lives will never be the same. Why does the media need to give him an identity and publicity? Give his cause publicity? Why was he not referred to as a “nameless, faceless” attacker? Why do media outlets feel the need to personalize him, to prop him up on the podium of front page news, giving him not only a picture, a name, but also a background, a story? There were interviews with his parents, interviews with those that knew him, why? He is a criminal, he is a barbarian, he does not deserve that media recognition. The publicity he receives, in my opinion, serves to only ignite others like him, who see that they also may be “celebrities” in their death for their cause, gaining front page access to major American newspapers. His name should not be mentioned, his face should not be shown. He did not do anything that earned him that honor.
There are many true heroes, good individuals who do noble things who will never, ever in their lifetime earn the distinction of their photo on the front page of the New York Times or any other major American newspaper. Their stories and their faces will never receive that journalistic honor and distinction. Yet, a person who horrifically and cowardly struck down innocent people who were caught by him inside a building earned that villain this distinction. Our society is fundamentally flawed, when our news media believed that showing his picture and telling his story was a better “scoop” than the hundreds and hundreds of people who stood in line to donate blood to the injured that day, or the gofundme campaign that raised a million dollars for those victims and their families in record time due to the donations by thousands of people or the local businesses and organizations that came out to provide food and drinks to those trying to help or waiting for news or the first responders who worked tirelessly to retrieve and treat the injured and identify the deceased so that their families would know the answer to the terrible question – did my loved one survive? The faces of those that were gunned down by a maniac didn’t get their pictures on the front page the day after the shooting, even though some of their identities were known at that time. Innocent people died simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, yet those people didn’t earn the distinction of front page news like the loathsome creature that slaughtered them. That, my dear friends, is just a small part of what irks me about news media and the way our society’s values lie.
Along with the many other changes that need to come from this horrific incident, perhaps maybe news organizations won’t give acknowledgement to those miscreants and their organizations, further fueling their fires. I can only hope.
After almost ten years of living here (wow, has it been that long?) I am still amazed by the wildlife. Regularly on my walks with Moxie, I will see grouse scare the crap out of her in the woods and squirrels, birds and the occasional fox. We see deer often and some of us have seen turkeys a little too close up for comfort (as in flying at your windshield). Years ago, we’ve seen the occasional moose walk through our yard, although my sister thinks I’ve made this up since she’s never seen one up here. It never gets old.
Yesterday, while we were driving on Route 103 just a couple miles from our house there was a young black bear crossing the road. I don’t often see bear and we couldn’t help but wonder if it was “our” bear, the one that was living on our neighbor’s porch last year that was rescued.
Here are some pictures. True testament to the fact that you never know what you might see on the roads in Vermont.
Today is the day to celebrate your siblings.
It is National Siblings Day. The day was picked by the founder of the Siblings Day Foundation to honor her late siblings and is in fact, the birthday of her sister. For more information about National Siblings Day look here.
I love my brother and my sister, they are a big part of my life and for that I will be always grateful for their love, friendship and support, to them I send my love on this day and always.
Today, I also want to celebrate the siblings that we created. They are three amazing young men and I love them more than words can say. They are the best part of my life. While each of them is amazing individually, together they are so much more. I am happy that they will always have each other as they journey through life and will always share the common bond of family that is unique just to the three of them. While others will come and go in their lives, they will always have each other. By birth, they are stuck together and labeled as siblings. My wish for them, now and always, is that they remember that they are the best part of our family, in fact they are what makes the five of us a family. As the ties that bind all of us together loosen with their independence, my hope is that they have learned and will remember until their last breath, that they will always have each other. As different as each of them are, they share a common and unbreakable tie that is part of their very soul. They know each other better than anyone, even better in some respects than their father and I know them. If we have done our job well as their parents, that is the lesson that they will take with them as they go do great things in this world.
Grown and Flown had a wonderful article on siblings which I encourage you to read. Perhaps it struck a special chord with me because the author speaks to their three boys and their family of five.
My favorite part of that post is the following:
They hold each other’s childhood and with a word or a phrase the five of us are back together again, and we are all young with so much of our lives still unknown. I told them that I wanted them to be close forever because in the end they would always have each other, because it is truly a blessing in life if there is someone who can be counted on at any time. But I now realize I was being far more selfish, because as long as they are there for each other, they will always have us.
Yesterday, Easter Sunday was a beautiful day. The weather was absolutely wonderfully spring-like and warm. It was made better because I was able to spend it with my sweetie, two of my three boys, my youngest nephew, my sister and my brother-in-law.
We were able to celebrate Tyler’s birthday on Saturday after the Easter Vigil mass where Tim did the readings.
Sunday afternoon I went for a nice long walk with my dog, getting a nice dose of sunshine and endorphins. All in all, a good day, a nice weekend and a chance to do some community service with my Rotary club.
Since I have moved here, I have been truly blessed to have some wonderful people come into my life. People who inspire me to make our world a better place and give me the faith that there really are good souls in the world despite how our mass media constantly blankets us in the ugly and the horrific nature of our fellow humans.
A group of community members and teenagers came together to help make our town a better place, to instill some beauty into our little corner of the world. Their enthusiasm is contagious. Most of these folks I met as members of my Rotary club, which I will proudly assume the reins of president for in a few months. These folks, like many others in the community where I live, try to make the world a better place and truly embody the Rotary motto of “service above self”. I am proud to be counted among their ranks.
To perfectly top off the wonderful weekend that it was, I noticed that spring has truly come to the hill. My first crocus not only sprouted forth from the depths of its winter slumber but found the warm of the sun sufficient to bloom – sharing its beautiful colors with me.