on the path to a centered life

Looking Around (and Under) the ‘Hood

Our little 1920 house sits on a corner lot very close to the charming old downtown of a small Indiana city. There was an abandoned bungalow right around the corner when we moved here five years ago, but that was soon torn down. The city bought the lot, and the lot of another house next to it that was already torn down when we moved here, with the intention of turning those lots into an extra parking lot for the YMCA across the street from our front door. The YMCA decided, however, to build a new facility and moved away to the north side of town, so instead of a parking lot there is a nice big swath of green space behind our house. Past the green space there is a small older parking lot for the the city hall by day (and for the community theater across the street by night), and past that (making it the corner of our block on the next street down) there is an abandoned two-story apartment building.

Or, there was. A large piece of machinery suddenly appeared one day, huddled up next to the old building, and every so often someone operated it, using the scoop bucket to rip down the sides and porches, and moving the debris into a huge dumpster. The picture above is from a few days ago. As of yesterday, the building is completely gone, the foundation hole has been filled in with clean sand, and we can see all the way from our street to the corner house on the next street over.

The first day the walls came down, the entire block smelled like a charnel house, reeking of dead animals, rotting wood and paper, years of damp and neglect. Its very existence was not only a downer in ways everyone could see, but it was also quietly cursing the neighborhood with its foulness. It affected us much less than the folks who lived next to it, but it was there, it was visible from our garden and side doors. We passed it all the time because we’re on a one-way street and we need to turn at that corner if we want to go in any other direction.

With every derelict house that comes down, the neighborhood feels a little lighter, a little less bogged down by sadness and tragedy. Every house, whether old or new, in good condition or bad, has its stories of happiness and sadness, of celebration and despair. When sadness and tragedy prevail in any house, decrepitude sets in, and often, finally, abandonment and decay. And there they stand, these old monuments to the worst in life, weighing down our minds and microcosm, holding us back from fresh air, beauty, health, and hope. We have to let them go, and even forcibly remove them–to release the places of sadness back to the universe, to allow something better to come of the space that remains. The process might take time and release some noxious stuff, but when the dust settles, it’s like seeing a brand new world.

The guy who lives across the street from the torn-down apartment house has only lived there for a couple of years, but he goes all out on holidays, bedecking his house with lights. I don’t think it is a coincidence that he doubled the number of lights a couple of nights ago. When we look out that way, or drive by, this is what we see now:

A Teatime List of Annoying Questions

My inner curmudgeon has been having a field day of late; I’m sure there’s something in the water around here, which I make palatable by brewing a cup of tea (Earl Grey at the moment). Or maybe it’s just me. But c’mon, let’s be honest, you’ve experienced these situations:

“How are you?” is asked 99% of the time by someone who doesn’t actually give a s^&*. Yet there you are, knowing that they don’t really want to know the actual answer to the question, yet they feel compelled by the norms of polite society to ask. What’s polite about doing that? So I take it the next step in my head and give the questioner the benefit of the doubt, thinking that maybe the question is genuine, and then pulling back before I humiliate myself by actually answering the question with something other than a plastic smile and a drawled “Fiiine.” And a nod, of course, and quickly ask the same of them, whether I really want to know or not. That’s how it is done and it is annoying, isn’t it?

“How do you feel?” Answer this one truthfully when asked by anybody other than a nurse in a hospital, and you answer at your peril. Even the nurse in the doctor’s office really doesn’t give a rat’s ass, it’s just a formality. Unlike the question above, one does not in turn ask the nurse how she feels. Or the doctor–don’t ever, ever make that mistake, they really don’t like it, and it could complicate your diagnosis.

“Are you happy?” is one that sends me screaming and running into an existential no-man’s land where first happiness needs to be given a definition, then a context, or maybe the it’s the other way around. Happiness to me is relative, and I’m not at all sure any questioner intends the definition I work with. I always feel like I am supposed to answer in a positive way, like “Yeaaah,” with a smile and a nod, but often I just stammer, which of course makes the questioner think I am not happy, when in fact I am not necessarily not-happy. I have to fight the tendency to answer this question with another question, even an aggressively rendered, “Are you?”

“Would you like some coffee?” when visiting someone who hasn’t actually made any yet. The questions whirl in my head: will I be putting them out, do they want coffee or something themselves, or maybe they prefer tea but they think more people like coffee so they offer to make that, is it too late in the day for caffeine, if I say yes will they make the abomination called hazelnut coffee and I won’t be able to rid myself of the taste and smell for the next three days? If it’s a really good friend, I’ll say yes, but generally back down if it isn’t. Asking, “What kind is it?” seems ungracious. But the hazelnut coffee fad seems to have subsided, thank my lucky beans.

(Here I take a moment to enjoy my 60-calorie “teacake”: 1 tablespoon of low-sugar raspberry preserves–25 calories–spread on 1 plain rice cake–35 calories.)

“Do you have a Rewards Card with us?” means the moment I say no I am going to be subjected to the spiel for getting me to sign up for one, when all I want to do is get the hell outta there with my printer ink and on with the rest of my life. Maybe I should just fling an aggressive, “Do you?” at them. I’ve lied and said yes, but I left it at home, but now they say they can credit a rewards card online if I give them my phone number. Sigh.

“Paper or plastic?” when there is a substantial collection of my own canvas shopping bags in a pile right in front of the bagger. What century is he/she in???

Feel free to add your own

It’s Here: Minimalist Cooking 2!

Okay, everybody, Minimalist Cooking 2: 27 More Practical Recipes is now officially published, available here on the blog and also on Amazon.com and Smashwords. It focuses on one-pot and one-dish meals, in keeping with the Minimalist Cooking goals of simplicity, serenity, and keeping messes under control. The main-dish recipes include soups, stews, skillet casseroles, and savory pies, and are loaded with veggies. Two-thirds are meatless/vegetarian, and ten are vegan-friendly. There are also several recipes for quick and easy muffins to enjoy on the side.

Minimalist Cooking 2 is priced at $2.99, and we’ve lowered the price of the first book to $2.99, as well. As always, if you have any questions, just contact me and I will see what I can do to help. If you want to spread the love, a nice review at Amazon is always appreciated.

With love, hugs and comfort food,

Meg

On Writing, Food, and Dieting

Food for thought, thought for food,
Makes a better attitude.

At least I keep telling myself that. Like just about everyone else who goes through dietary issues and changes, I get cranky and grumpy and tired of thinking about it, and yet can’t stop thinking about it at every turn, because it’s my food! Making it even more challenging, I’ve just finished writing my second cookbook, Minimalist Cooking 2, which will be available at Smashwords and Amazon.com in the next few days (and I’ll do a post complete with links when the time comes). So it’s been an intense two months of thinking about food, cooking food, having Steve photograph food, and writing about food, all while adjusting my personal intake of food to gluten-free vegetarian and a lot less of it altogether. Five pounds down, eight to go–fighting weight, here I come!

The former fashionista in me is looking forward to the day that I get to buy new jeans. This leads to thoughts about shopping for clothes, and of course if you have been reading this blog for a while, you are aware of my love/hate relationship with clothes shopping. So here we are: thoughts on food lead to thoughts of shopping. What fun, eh? I am glad that by the time I am ready for new jeans, I won’t have to face the low-slung styles Read more »

Personal Symbols

Ten years ago on Halloween I bought the Red Ball on impulse at a K Mart or Target or some such place. I remember how I was feeling that day, very happy and free and full of life and hope. I was picking up candy for trick-or-treaters when I spotted the tall display of big bouncy balls at the end of an aisle of toys. They were on sale, dirt cheap, and the bright colors reminded me of how delighted I was when I got one as a small child. It was a direct and almost primeval joy. I wanted the bright red one, and managed to extract it from the pile without causing an avalanche, and tested it out right there in the store. It proved to be one of those perfect, iconic, bouncing balls, big enough to make me feel like a kid, bouncing high as my head with little effort. It was the symbol of the day, of my life at that moment, and it’s been hanging around in my house, in the living room or dining room, ever since, a big round red conceptual dot in the decor’s composition.

More precisely, it hung around until it didn’t hold air anymore, and then it was replaced three years ago by Red Ball #2, which was slightly smaller, not as bouncy, and a slightly darker red. It mostly lurks under the dining room table and gathers dust, but it’s there. Every so often I get it out and give it a couple of bounces. #2 is already losing air.

Most of the things I was hopeful for when I purchased the first red ball have materialized: I wanted to expand my creative life, I wanted to meet someone and maybe even get married again, and I wanted to just live a more interesting life. I did get far enough along with my art to have shows and sell paintings and sculptural assemblages. I did marry the guy from England that I was chatting with online in between handing out candy to trick or treaters. Life did expand in the right direction in some ways, some of it the natural result of this blog. It also constricted in other ways, as a result of health and the economy. So Red Ball #2 is probably a good symbol of things right now–simple and good, if not as bright and bouncy as it was at the start.

Sometimes I wonder whether I should replace Red Ball #2 with Red Ball #3, or if it is an icon that has outlived its significance. It feels as if a hundred years have passed in the space of ten; life could hardly be more different. The things I wish for now are very different, and have more to do with seeing my way through to a basic level of success and security, from which a lot of other good things could expand. A more appropriate icon might be a piece of large road paving equipment, or a snowplow, although that seems a bit too aggressive, not to mention expensive and not very minimalist.

No, I think I will stick with a big red bouncy ball–replacing it as needed–not only for the aesthetics, but I’d miss it if it wasn’t around. It’s a simple symbol of persistence as well as hope, a bit of constancy in a world that’s always changing in so many large and small ways. And it’s fun to give it a few bounces every now and again

Do you have something “different” hanging around that’s a symbol of something important to you?

 

 

 

 

« Previous Page — Next Page »