Northern Housepitality

I thought I'd write about Christmas in New York.
A visit from an old friend is a present in itself as it probably involved at least 2 trains,a brief walk on an icy street and 3 layers of clothing. Chances are your friend went even further out of his way to find tiramisu. I am certain parcels gain weight when you carry them in the cold and a 2 lb. bottle of wine can swell to 10 after walking up hill several blocks. I had forgotten all these things about the north and it's marvelous inhabitants who trade a cozy evening at home for the company of real human beings and spontanious conversations around a kitchen table. It is the repressed northerner in me that cooks. It's the childhood full of snow and stew that causes me to sob as I make a pot of sauce or stew a chicken for 5 hours. Thank you Camie and James for your kitchen, your wonderful friends and that table we just couldn't get away from. Thank you, New York, for a beautiful Christmas. Thank you Steve's G town for the pancetta, parmesan, heavy cream, Italian sausage, fresh basil and parsley. Special thanks to my grand dog, Freddie, who savored every morsel I dropped.
Happy New Year to all.

I eat Alone....Yeah, with nobody else.....

They say that breaking up is hard to do.... But eating ramen and go food can prolong the misery.
So, I am going to treat myself like a new boyfriend and try to convince myself that pescatore for one tastes exactly the same as if it were for two. Guess what, if ya miss pissin off the old boyfriend from time to time, you can indulge yourself by really irritating the man at the seafood counter in your favorite super market!!
I'll have 2 oysters, 2 scallops and 2 shrimp,please- no not that shrimp, this shrimp. ( I have done this before)
Saute some garlic in olive oil and a little butter and toss the seafood in it a minute. Douse with some lemon juice. Remove the seafood and add diced onion until soft, toss in chopped olives(green and black) and some chopped basil and a drained can of chopped tomatoes
. Salt and pepper the tomatoes. Keep cooking and if you have a jar of B&B mushrooms, throw them in.A microscopic pinch if cinnamin and a speck of cayenne. When all the ingredients seem to be enjoying their new relationships, return the seafood to the sauce to heat up and pour it over some linguini. Parm cheese and a glass of petite syrah. Is there a photo of your x in the trash can? Good, scrape your plate on top of that and go see what's on tv.

It's not Nani, it's Ka Nani

I left Faith fot the first time today to come to work. After being the baby barnicle on the SS Kanani for 7 weeks, we knew this was going to be a stressful event for her. I worried about it all day, Faith KNEW something was up, Marty ran out and bought a little pool and a gallon of icecream, I tried to prepare slowly for work and then the moment came. I did not want to just disappear so I told her I was going to work and I could hear her crying behind the door and she could hear me cry for about 2 miles up the road. It then occured to me that that is what Tina told her when she left.

Le jardin

Marty and I ate our way through the French Quarter Festival today and after sampling 6 different restaurants we proceded to search for obnoxious T- shirts for our up-coming cruise in December. There is no challenge in satisfying Marty's good taste, within 5 minutes we found: " If it's true beer damages brain cells, I must have been a freakin' genious". No, the challenge today would be finding something for me. As we continued to search, we found Zues the perfect t-shirt for the dog park: "It's not gonna lick itself". An hour passes and then another one and I whined to Marty that there isn't anything here for me. Sadly, we agreed to head to the car and as we walked through the French Market pushing through piles of tourists and thousands of beads, I saw a hand towell that read " silence of the Labs". And then there it was, my perfect t-shirt, the one that only I could wear, the one that BELONGED to me. It has a big sprig of rosemary and a tiny sprig of rosemary on the front. In soft pretty letters it says" Rosemary's Baby".

Mrs. Butterworth or Anything for baby....

The grandchildren are here for the weekend. Faith is in charge of everything! Where we sit, what we eat, what we watch on TV, bed times, rising times, good times, bad times, the weather and the latest bills sent to congress. This morning she wanted my chair. Of course, I GAVE IT TO HER. Then she wanted pancakes and Marty whipped them up and placed them in front of her. She then muttered meanly "BACON' so he made her some bacon. "Juice" was delivered and " FORK" was retrieved over and over and maple syrup was reapplied multiple times on her pancakes. I was relieved of duty long enough to get ready for work ( and believe me, I sloooowly got ready for work). As I reached for my purse and suit coat (official work jacket of the de la Monnaie) I realized they were both on the back of my chair, the chair the baby had demanded at gunpoint.
My jacket collar is stuck to the back of my sweater and my purse zippers are all glued up

Fleurs de lis

I met Suzanne when I was 15. We were both volunteers working on West Carthage's first Teen Center in a church basement on Main street. I was from the Catholic school and she was from the public school. She chose a name for the kitchen area and I made the sign. " The Slop Shop"! A few days later I ran into Suzanne with her little dog, Pansy. She was really upset and told me what her stepfather had done to her, that she couldn't go home and she was leaving town. I dragged her to St. James rectory to talk to someone. I remember asking Father Spinard if she could just sleep at the church until we could come up with a plan. He said, very catholicly,"no". I then went home, pinched a five dollar bill from my mother's purse, returned to Suzanne who was waiting for me at the abandoned train car and said I'd go with her.( I was an experienced hitch-hiker at 15) We went to Virginia. We wound up in a half way house for teens called Bumpy Oak Counseling Center. When interviewed after the cops took us there, it was determined that I was as fucked up as a soup sandwich and Suzanne, the rape victim of her stepfather, was fine. Parents were notified and my parents called her parents to arrange transport and were told that they wouldn't be bringing her back. My Dad showed up 12 hours later in his Sunday suit and top coat. Doctors approached him to recommend institutions for me! When I learned that nobody came for Suzanne, I actually did go nuts, "I'm not leaving if she's not leaving". My father took temporary custody of my new best friend and we slept in the back seat for most of the 12 hour ride home. Over the next few years we would take many trips (some road and some right there at the abandoned train car) She thought I was courageous and creative and I thought she was grounded and determined. I thought she was the real Suzanne and she thought I was.

I found out today that she died.