FOG!

When I moved to Bakersfield in 1986, I considered it a short term assignment until I found a better job. As it turned out, THAT was the job that was meant for me. So I remained a transient resident. I could not call the place home. It was a place where I worked and lived.

My home, to me, in my small pea brain, was still Lindsay. I hadn't spent a night there since I started law school, but it was still "home".

One of the things that I remembered most fondly from Lindsay (remember a child's magical thinking here) was the fog. I remember seeing Christmas lights shrouded in fog and warm fires in our fireplaces while the outside world surrounded itself in quiet mist.

All very romantic.

Then I grew up and moved 60 miles south to Bakersfield.

Fog is not, I repeat, NOT romantic.

Yesterday, The Kid and I went over to Bakersfield to see old friends and do some business.



And we had an encounter of the second kind. FOG.

Now I have seen it worse. Or should I say I have tried to see through worse. But it was slow going in any case.

Off the edge of Highway 58 you wouldn't know there was a 500 foot drop.

But once we got there we met with some of my old friends. The warmest, most wonderful people on the planet. We had a wonderful day sharing stories and food and more stories and more food.

It was food for the soul.

And I stopped to see the resting place of a very good friend and mentor.

I miss you, Your Honor. 

Fog, past and present.

mighty fly

My daughter sent me this after my GREAT lunch pun. She never appreciates my quick wit and gentle laugh.  (==snort==) 

So Far, So Good

I have ventured into baking again.

I know, I am a glutton for punishment.

But I had promised The Kid that she would have a lemon meringue pie for dinner tonight. (I am a glutton for punishment).

For those of you who are uninformed, my last effort ended up on the kitchen stove---minus a crust.

The stove top

The remainder

This time I used a cookie sheet and moved ever so slowly. Even putting the ingredients together. It took a LONG time.

I was extremely careful with the eggs. No yolk in the whites, said my mother; so there were no yolk droplets in my egg whites. Medium heat for the lemon custard; so medium heat. Stir constantly; so I stirred forever!

Then I added cream of tartar and vanilla extract to the egg whites and beat them shiny and stiff. I even added the sugar very slowly.

And this was the result.

Today's effort before browning

I carefully (oh, lordy, you don't know how carefully) transferred the pie to a cookie sheet. Then I carefully slid the whole thing into a preheated oven (I did that before I started anything so I wouldn't forget!)

Twelve excruciating minutes later I had to remove it from the oven. I had cleared large swathes of the kitchen counter so that I would not bump into ANYTHING.

I carefully removed the cookie sheet with the pie on it.

I made it to the stove top!

And then, it a miraculous feat, the pie, in one piece made it to the cooling rack ON THE COUNTER!!

I made it to the COUNTER!

It sits now, safe and sound, in the refrigerator for the mandatory 3 hours.



MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU.

May you have peace in your life this year. And may your efforts be as successful as my pie!

Singing When It Hurts

Tonight the Vocal Arts Ensemble joined the Central California Children's Choir at a sing-a-long at the Performing Arts Center on the campus of Cal Poly. We do this every year.

We sing a couple of songs from our Christmas Concert, then the Children's Choir sings a couple of songs followed by the Advanced Singers of the Children's Choir and then us again.

Between choirs the directors lead the crowd in singing Christmas Carols. That is the VAE behind them in the picture.

Gary and Melody leading the audience in carols.

The crowd is full of children. From babes in arms to teenagers. There are a lot of older people as well. Many with walkers or canes. Some in wheelchairs.

Everyone is dressed for Christmas and the audience glitters.

At the end of the show, the children's choir joins the VAE on stage and we sang a song called "Hope for Resolution"

The song is a composite of  an old hymn called "Of the Father's Love Begotten" in English and a Zulu freedom song in Swahili . It was written to commemorate the meeting of President Frederik Willem de Klerk and Nelson Mandela. It was at that meeting that, as Dawn Spears said in her introduction, "the world shifted" because it was the end of apartheid and the beginning of acceptance of each other. 

I am standing next to maybe a 10 year old girl who is singing her heart out. I am singing and crying and trying to not to reach out and take her in my arms in a giant bear hug.

It would have scared her to death. 

She would not have understood how precious she is and why some stranger would want to hold her, to make her feel safe.

I wanted to feel safe. 

This week has not been good for us as people. 

We can make it better.

Sing. Laugh. Love.

Be good to one another.  

Peace, please

On day's like today, when the news is so awful, I try to go to a peaceful place.

Yesterday, as I was going to work, I stopped to take a photo of the fall/winter morning here on the mountain. I spent a lot of time looking at it today. This is my peaceful place.

Feel free to use this peaceful scene when the world is ugly and you don't understand.

I do.

Life Is a Lemon Meringue Pie

As a young girl (probably around the time I was the only "squaw" in the kindergarten Indian raiding party) I promised myself I would NOT learn to type or cook. At least I would not publicize  these abilities. My theory was that the male ruling class would force me into a kitchen or a typing pool or both when I wished to be more than that.

I did go through a phase of gourmet cooking in high school. I was trying to get a B in the class but the instructor didn't like the way I measured things. Thus I maintained my reputation. I did, however, cook some great stuff for the family. A bit of Cog au Vin, a little roasted chicken with cream sauce, and a little Lemon Meringue Pie. Always, Lemon Meringue Pie.

I always used the recipe on the Kingsford Corn Starch box.

Always.

But as I grew old and wiser, I began to make the pie only on special occasions for the special few. It was Melodie's birthday cake.

So one year I was making the pie at Camp Nelson. The whole family is there. They are ready for this blast from the past. And I learned something.

Don't make the lemon custard in an aluminum pan.

The custard was this amazing color of gray. Shiny, light gray.

Not many people eat gray things.

It tasted great but you had to shut your eyes to eat it. Or go outside in the dark.

Over the years, I lost some of my skill at this particular recipe. Don't know if it was age or the presure of expectations.

One year I forgot the corn starch. Ever had lemon soup. Cold.

One year I forgot the butter.

One year, well, let's not discuss that one.

So it is now a "watch and see if she can do it" event.

This year, I promised the family a lemon meringue pie for our Thanksgiving meal. So, off to the store I went on Black Friday to buy the freshest lemons, fresh corn starch (Kingsford, of course), baker's sugar, fresh eggs and a little cream of tartar.

I come home.

The crust goes swimmingly as I bought the little white ceramic beads to put in the crust while it cooked. No bubbles this year. At least not in the crust.

Then, I carefully, as I was taught in home economics back in high school, measured every ingredient and set them aside in their own containers.

I mixed the ingredients per the old Kingsford recipe (it isn't on their box anymore. I had to go to the internet!)

I cooked the custard patiently and slowly.

It was PERFECT. Tartly sweet with good body.

I beat the egg whites to beautiful stiff peaks. I  added the sugar delicately so as not to deflate the air in the egg whites.

I spread the meringue carefully. Putting gentle peaks which would, if I had done it right, produce sugar beads.

I baked it at the right temperature. For the right amount of time.

I carefully lifted the aluminum pie tin to the top of the stove.

AND I DROPPED IT!.

And the back half of the meringue slid off to lodge itself between the stove and the countertop.

A portion did remain behind. On the stove. Begging not to leave such a perfect creation.

After a few minutes of soundless screaming and the spouse offering to clean up (he never does that so he knew how mad I was), I returned to the kitchen.

As I put the salvageable parts   back on the pie and began the clean up, we began to laugh.

Can I PLEASE make a pie that is NOT connected to a good story of how I can't cook!

Please. Please. PLEASE!!!!

Below are the remnants of my effort.

After the major part of the clean up

Back of the pie after reconstruction

The front of the pie. Undamaged. Perfect.

Guess I will try again tomorrow. Melodie wants a lemon meringue pie!

Sleeping Alone

Zelda

Since we rescued her from a puppy mill, Zelda has had a pack. She was the Alpha Female. A title that she and LadyBug would occasionally discuss. Such discussions usually led to time outs in respective cages.

But by the time we moved to the mountains, LadyBug was too old and infirm to discuss the matter anymore. She just didn't care. And I had asserted my Alpha Female rights.

But Zelda had a pack around her. Mohawk and LadyBug were always there. For 10 years.

LadyBug cleaned her face every day. Mohawk always sniffed the other end. Don't ask me why.

When Bug and Mo passed, Zelda began looking for them. Especially at dinner time.

The routine had always been that Zelda ate in her cage (in Grover Beach) or the laundry room (on the mountain) She was served first. LadyBug was in her cage (Grover) or the bathroom (mountain). She was always served second. Mohawk was last and he ALWAYS got the kitchen.

When we first put her food in the kitchen, Zelda would not eat. She ran up the hall and into the bathroom. She finally came back and ate.

She won't sit with me in my chair but she will sit with Mel. Mohawk and LadyBug always sat on my lap for tv time.

She sleeps at the end of the bed refusing to take Mohawk's or LadyBug's place at our side or on the pillows.

She follows either of us around, not letting us out of her sight.

We talk to her alot. We take her for walks and let her sit on the front porch with us.

But the worst, for her has been sleeping by herself in the cat room. It takes her quite awhile to settle down and drop off. And she won't go in the room without one of us.

She misses them more than we do.

She gets lots of attention now. THAT she really, really likes.