CT Decade 4: Ze bonz.

Bones

Clean and organize your recipe or cookbook collection, making sure that what you're likely to use is what's handy. If you do not have recipes to support your preferred level of culinary effort, it's time to go find some!

Would you believe I just re-read Wende's instructions only to discover I didn't follow them at all! Yet, I did what needed to be done and I'm really pleased. It didn't take very long, either. And it was just the task for a sleep deprived brain.

These are my cookbook shelves.




I did not, actually, deal with the cookbooks at all, per se. I've weeded these out many times and I'm currently happy with what's there. I generally use only the ones on the lower shelf. Some of those on the top shelf belong to the husband and I don't have his permission to get rid of them.

So, what did I do?

See those binders?

The black ones next to the Milk bones box?
(Yes, it holds Milk bones. They're kept here, kitty corner to the stairs to lure the puppy down should he dodge the gate at their foot.)

The skinny black binder is my printout of weekly housecleaning chores from Motivated Moms.

The other is MY "recipe box."

But the binder had become dysfunctional. You can see it bulging there on the shelf. Very little was organized--and I had recipes in there which pre-dated my computer that I hadn't probably made more than twice, ten years or so ago. So, it was time to sort through this collection of recipes.



I love keeping my recipes this way. I sort of fell into this format over time, but it's just so sensible. First, I can photocopy a page from a cookbook, three hole punch it and put it into the binder. I can also, naturally, print out recipes from on-line. I can type recipes into a word document and print them. The 8 1/2 x 11 format is by far the easiest way to capture a recipe. Why bother with writing everything out on a 4x6 card? The sheer amount of work: even with a program for it, smothers all desire to even have recipes on hand.

The second advantage to this format is that should I ever be bothered by the mish mash of styles and formats I could stream line the whole thing into some sort of attractive work of art with Word and artwork and pictures and what not. I may do something of the sort as a "going away" gift for the kids when they leave home, but I can't think I'd bother otherwise.

The third best feature of this format is that I can use page protectors. I'd like to get those extra-wide page dividers, though. Right now I can't really "see" the dividers I've already got in there.

I now have my recipes categorized like this:
1) Salads
2) Entrees, beef
3) Entrees, Chicken
4) Entrees, vegetarian
5) Soup
6) "Cooking Lessons" from Canadian Living
7) Holiday menus and recipes. (Here is where the stuffing recipe goes, the Carrot and Yam dish, the Bacon wrapped Shrimp, Turkey Pot Pie.)
8) Recipes focused on one ingredient, like Rhubarb.
9) Miscellaneous. (How to make Chili five ways, type thing.)

Nonetheless, even though I weeded out a lot of old recipes and retyped one to fit on one page instead of two, I decided to create a second binder for Baking. It's the blue one, now on the shelf.

This one is much simpler:
1) Muffins and quickbreads
2) Cookies
3) Other.



At the very least, I can now send the kids to get the Brownie recipe and not worry that everything else is going to fall out. At most, we might even eat a bit more variety around here. We'll see how the monthly menu planning goes this weekend.

Decade 4, La Tete.

Head

* Decide whether you're the sort of person who comparison shops for the best deal among grocery stores or whether you prefer to stick to one favorite store.

A long time ago my husband told me that since he works for a major grocery chain here out West, that we would shop exclusively at that grocery store. I was pleased. It isn't the cheapest in town: but then I don't have to bag my own groceries: and I can actually find clerks who will help me locate items. Coupons and what not are an entirely different thing here: and running to different stores for the "best deal" takes a lot of time and gas. I'm happy to stick to the one store. That being said, our food bills are very, very high. (A lot of that has to do with where we live: we're a long way from everywhere, so it all just costs more--but I can do much, much better when I cut down on our meat.)

* Construct a list of staples that need to be kept on hand and routinely replaced as the supply runs low. If you are a solo cook accustomed to shopping for specific cooking projects (and eating a lot of Toast), you will be shocked at how much food you need on hand to get through a week at a reasonable level of variety. Roll with it. There is a sense of security that is achieved only by possession of that second can of Great Northern beans.

I did this a long time ago, a la Flylady. It really wasn't that hard. I saved a few weeks of grocery lists (we weren't doing the once a month thing, then) and just typed up the recurring items. Then I added stuff I'd be likely to buy every week (the produce and bread, mostly) and saved the thing on the computer. I print it off every month and whatever I don't need, I simply strike out. I "need" something when, for example, my recipes call for 4 cans of 19oz tomatoes and I have 4 (or even 5) on hand. I'll simply buy one more: just to keep that pantry stocked and retain that sense of security Wende mentioned. (It's my bounty, my security and my largess when there's a food drive for the local food bank.)

I recently re-vamped it and added a second page to keep track of the meat we have on hand. It sits with me when I do my menus--and since Tuesday is the First Tuesday of Spetember, I've already printed it off to do my menus today and tomorrow.



The ideal, of course, is to have this laid out according to the aisles in your grocery store--and I tried that once. But, after the store underwent renovations, I didn't bother to change things and it just seems overly fussy to me. Still, it may be helpful to some to whip it into store-order.

Next up: Recipes.
Can I say I am looking forward to getting my recipes sorted and organized?
I've been waiting for this since Day 1.

For SCB fans everywhere.

How to be Special is so Mundane...

(Note: I changed the title after I'd posted. Sorry for any confusion).

So, in order to try and make good on this "something special" idea, I started looking at volunteer opportunities in my area. This is surprisingly easy to do on-line. There are all sorts of sites, and a few excellent ones, which list opportunities available in the city. There's also a helpful questionnaire posted here and there to help figure out what you would like to do.

One of the first questions is this:

If you had all the time and money in the world, what problem would you solve? What would you change or create?

Hmmm. Let's see.

1) I would try and change the current crazy industrial food system we have here in North America. Of course, no one could live in this particular city anymore as we haven't locally grown food--all the agricultural land has been swallowed (and what's left continues to be swallowed) by urban sprawl. (What is grown here in our ridiculously short season is done in greenhouses--but what do I know? In our effort to keep our gas consumption low, we have only one vehicle. The Farmer's Market here is only open on Saturday's--so I'd need to get up at 5 am and take the hubby to work so we could get there. What about public transit? or bicycles, you say? Um. See below.)

Of course, that means our back yards are perfect places to grow veggies and what not. How do we prepare to store our bounty for the winter? Who knows? Who cares? Do we really want to give up oranges from Florida and apples from New Zealand for raspberries and blueberries? (Does it become unethical to freeze them for winter use?) Do I simply get that blasted garden going next year or do I do something more? How do I even begin to find people with the same concerns?

2) Urban Sprawl. Yes. I live in a city notable for many things, but chiefly: there are eight people per square mile here. We probably have, by necessity, the most inefficient public transportation system in North America. There's just over one half of a million people here. You can imagine how spread out we are--and I live close to downtown. Except that there is the largest urban greenspace in North America between me and it, too, a river valley with steep sides.

Urban sprawl leads to great inefficiencies--think about all the water pipes laid out to each house on lots 50 feet wide, the gas pipes, the sewer lines. I don't think I can even begin to talk about the automobile without going into a choking fit.

3) Alternate fuel energy technologies. I'd happily volunteer to put a windmill on my house. Can I even do that? I don't think we'd need to worry about the prairie chickens.

4) And here's something I would change if I could. It has more to do with values concerning citizenship and nationalism than global survival and so doesn't feel quite so, ahem, important, but I am rather concerned there is no decent Canadian History book for children out there.

I have no idea what the schools do, nor do I really care. I've been reading opinions about Canadian History--what it is and isn't, how it should be taught, how, frankly, it just isn't. We aren't even talking about how to teach it yet. Nasty, complicted business--yet I just want to do something about making Canadian History accessible to little folks. Does that mean I should hole up and write it (how?) or should I go volunteer at our local "historical reenactment" site--which, frankly, could be fun.

Of course, none of these show up as "opportunities" on those web sites.
But I want to do something.

With respect for Justin Haythe

What Justin Haythe actually wrote in Revolitionary Road, as opposed to my butchered paraphrase:

Shep: You wanted out.

April: I wanted in. I wanted us to live again.

For years I thought we shared this secret: That we would be wonderful in the world. I didn't know exactly how; just the possibility kept me hoping. How pathetic is that? So stupid. All your hopes in a promise that was never made.

See, Frank knows, Franks knows what he wants. He's found his place, he's just fine. Married, two kids, should be enough. It is for him.

And he's right. We were never special or destined or anything at all.

Shep: Oh yes you are. You're the Wheeler's. You're a terrific couple. Everyone says so.

April: I saw a whole other future. I can't stop seeing it. Can't leave. Can't stay. No damn use to anyone.

C'mon, let's do it.

(And they go dancing. Which is an amazing performance in and of itself.)

**************
Truly, one of my first thoughts about this speech was that April, as a character, was far too young to have made it. It's the speech, more properly, of someone at mid-life: someone who begins to think that if one had been destined: surely destiny would have arrived by now?

**************
Did we all grow up thinking we were "special?"
Why would we think that? Where does it come from? Four hundred years ago we would have we were sinners.

*************
And I hate to do this, but Wende, I must disagree. "What would I do?" in such a situation is interesting, I suppose. But I can't see that it would in any way be meaningful. Meaning really doen't exist without community. I'm not sure if I could defend that notion or where exactly I've picked it up, but language is not a one person affair.

If I were on a Desert Island--I would not, could not be "special." The word, as I am thinking of it here only has meaning in the sense of the greater community as a whole. I know this seems contrary to the dialogue above and perhaps that is a clue I am misconstruing this and warping it into my own thing: but I would simply argue that Shep's "everybody thinks so" is simply the wrong "everybody." She wanted Paris--something outside the norms and the boundaries in which they lived. She wanted to transcend them, somehow. She certainly wanted to transcend the boundaries of her own life. And you can't do that without a dream, without the belief that it is possible. She gives up the dream, gives up the belief and there's really nothing left.

As in all properly written tragedies, there really is no choice for the character but self-destruction, unfortunately. But as a catharsis and release for the audience member--the viewer can say, "No. Stop. Wait. There. That's where a choice could have been made." Maybe. Maybe she could have chosen to be "the housewife" she felt Frank deserved. Whatever else she could have been, this at least she would be.

But, I'm afraid I'm truly speaking only for myself, here.
I made this choice this past year.

And now I think I'm asking: "And what else?"

All is Well--Thanks to 1GB of Ram!

Oh--and a new power thingy. You know the gizmo in the computer where you put the wall plug? --that had blown. Once it was fixed, the next thing to do was speed up the beast. Et Voila. I have a functional work horse and communication device back at my fingertips.

However.

The house stayed clean and tidy. Instead of sitting down "to check something" on-line, I put something away, or washed a dish, or swept a floor. The house was enjoyable. I was bored silly: but the house was restful, peaceful.

The husband and I watched a movie together. "Body of Lies." I realised I know nothing, nothing about the Middle East. I'm embarrassed by my ignorance, frankly.

We had picked up "BoL" to watch because I'd been quite taken with Mr. DiCaprio in Blood Diamond. I wondered if it might be similiar. (I know nothing about movies, either!) It wasn't, but it was still a decent movie though I had to watch it twice to keep track of the twists and turns. Impressed with it, I decided to rent Revolutionary Road.

I am still reeling.

It reminds me of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolfe" with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor which I saw when I was far too young to understand what I was seeing. It reminded me of "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?" which, though I was even younger, I did understand.

When I was in my mid-twenties, my cousin and his girlfriend, only four, five years younger than I, went to see "Dead Poet's Society." Does anyone remember it? It was an exuberant film about a crazy professor (Robin Williams) who turns on the young boys under his tutelage to the freedom from social stricture and the expression of life in all its fullness--simply from the reading and appreciation of poetry. Very romantic. And not something of an epiphany for the sophisticate I had believed I had become: but it certainly was for my younger cousins. Then living in Niagara Falls, Ontario, they decided to leave everyone they knew behind and start a new life together in Vancouver.

"Revolutionary Road" may be, could be my Dead Poet's Society.

Maybe.

There is a line Winslett, as April, says to her neighbour, the man who worships from afar, late in the movie, (if I pop in the dvd to quote it exactly, I may be overwhelmed, so I am deliberately paraphrasing, here):

"how did I ever think I was special? Where did I get that idea? What if I'm not? What if I'm really not? Nobody promised anything. How could I have believed in a promise nobody made?"

--and in the subtext-- how can I be so devastated by something that was never there, never real?

And, of course, I was pierced. I hate to be overdramatic. But it really did feel like something pierced me in the chest and held me very, very still.

What if?

Can I accept the fact that I'm really nobody special?

(Can anyone?)

What would it mean to accept I'm really nobody special?

Of course, that's a choice, an existential choice. So the opposite question must also be asked: what if I am special?

But because an existential choice is always about process--think becoming, not being, (there is, really, no "being"--ack watch me trip over language I haven't bothered to use in over 20 years!) the real, the only question is:

What would it mean to live as if I were somebody special?
What does "special" even mean?
What could it mean?

Could I make it mean something?

And I wish to hell this dialogue were not so solipsistic.

(My husband, ever the pragmatic soul that he is, does not like to watch "depressing" movies. He did not watch it with me.)

Hiatus

My computer is down.

Kaput.

I'm typing from the library, at the moment. I can't believe how hard it was to find my blog on google.

No matter. No culinary therapy at the moment, I'm afraid.

It's only been two days and so far, I've been enjoying the, well, dare I say it, freedom that has arrived with the tower's departure.

So far.

In a week, I'll probably be twitching.

I've already got about a million things to do while I have this terminal at my fingertips, so I'm not staying to chat.

See ya soon, I hope.