Jesus be a basic English writing class...

This is why I no longer teach:

"Shopping days at the supermarket are a drag when the sun is shinning (sic) and the cool, cool pavement is there for the taking."

I don't know either.

This gem is courtesy of a student in the food writing class I teach, a mere five class meetings have confirmed unequivocally that teaching makes my ass tired (another of my Grandmother's sayings, God I miss that woman!).* 

Anyway, Jesus might also consider being a thesaurus, a dictionary, and a grammar reference book for good measure.

Thank goodness tonight is the last night. At least it will look impressive on my CV.

*By the way the stress is on the word ass, which gives it this delicious new sense that connotes a condition or affliction one is experiencing called "tired ass" at least that's how I always imagined it as a kid when my Grandmother would say it.

Ennui

You know, I hate counting on other people for stuff.  Really.  This is both a strength and a weakness of mine.  I sometimes find myself isolated and even struggling because I don't reach out.  Actually I often forget entirely to reach out and it's largely because I have encountered so few people in this life who I can count on, friends and family alike.  

I've met a few who are down for whatever (within reason, of course) and I cherish them, but it's taken a long time.  Still, even with them, I have trouble laying down my burdens, my armor, etc. and letting them help.  I know that it also has to do with control but that's another story.  In any case I am at a point where I am not only waiting for others but I am also squandering my own time and energy.  I'm in that cycle again.  I'm a little stuck.  

The Lake

First and foremost, hello to all of the Daring Bakers who are stopping by. I'm sorry I there are no posts of the July challenge, I just didn't get my arse in gear in order to make it happen. But this month, I just can't wait, it's going to be fabulous, so come back, come back!!


Now, here I am, I have been struggling the past couple of weeks. Not with the calmness of life right now, but rather with the storm of thoughts whipping through my head about the future. Today, another horoscope:

Scorpio (Oct 23 - Nov 21)
You have been thinking about your future long enough. You may be sick and tired of going around on the same mental loops as you attempt to create something different from the life you currently have. Instead of fighting against the resistance you feel, try letting go of the attachment that you have to any long-term goals. You may be pleasantly surprised at what happens when your mind is freed from previous expectations.

I hate it when these things are dead on. I'm not even a horoscope junkie. Anyway, the gist of my malaise (in spite of the calm) these days, is that all that I'm envisioning is within reach but there's so much from here to the final destination, that I feel overwhelmed and slightly disheartened.  I have my own allegory for life change (or any kind of change), which is the lake. I thik I may have dreamed this initially and it has stuck with me over the years. It comes into my head at times like those I am experiencing now and shit, I kind of hate it. Here it is:  

I am first standing on the shore of a lake in a forest, looking at the other side, knowing that where I want and need to be.  The surroundings are absolutely beautiful and pristine, but there is no boat, no canoe, no other way to the other side accept swimming across.  The other part of this is, I really don't like swimming in natural bodies of water, I have a mild phobia.  Anything where I can't see to the bottom, you won't find me.  Additionally, I am not to fond of standing on the bottom of these bodies of water because anything could be buried/living in the dirt or sand (this stems from a childhood incident that has morphed into a fear that straddles the mild and the irrational), but I also would not want to stand on the bottom of a natural body of water that I couldn't see in. So the point is that I begin to realize that my only option is to dive in and begin swimming. As I continue swimming until I realize the other side is much further than I thought from the shore, but I keep swimming. Soon I stop and I am treading water in the middle of the lake, I look around to find that I am alone there--no one on either shore and no one in the water. I continue to tread and survey the situation. I begin thinking about what I will do, because my destination is still damn far away from me at this point and the water is cold and murky and I'm getting a little afraid because I don't like water like this. I look back where I came from. 'Should I just head back?' is what I think to myself. I contemplate for a while, I seriously consider turning back and finally I decide to move forward. I tell myself that I've come too far to turn back, I will have expended all of that effort and energy for nothing and that would be the failure. Especially when the reason I'm considering heading back is simply that the rest of the journey will be long and difficult. So I take a breath, and begin swimming again, even as fear of the murky water begins to creep into my consciousness.

The moral: the difficulty or complexity of a task is generally not reason enough to quit. And I live my life like that because unfortunately that's how I was raised and I have lots of pride when it comes to this whole thing.  Fuck.

Why do I hate it? Because being trifling is generally so much easier. My life would be less complicated if I was trifling and sorry.

But, I'm not. DAMN IT! (*said with a measure of regret*)

Maybe I should go and pick up some water socks in case I happen to briefly hit bottom while I'm out in the middle of that lake swimming to shore.

Astrology today

Here is my horoscope.

Hmmm, words to live by...

Don't just shamble down to the pizzeria and gobble a slab of greasy cheese, tomato sauce, and dough. Instead, arrange for an interesting person who likes you to home-deliver a pizza lovingly prepared by a gourmet chef. For that matter, Scorpio, don't tolerate mediocrity or the lowest common denominator in any area of your life. The Season of the Peak Experience is here -- a time when you have a sacred duty to give your best, commune with the highest, and ask for excellence.

Life and work are both at a stand still right now, with me feeling mostly like I'm being played.

But by what?  By whom?

Maybe this is the calm before the storm and soon all hell is going to break loose.  That is the scenario that has unfolded most frequently in my short but rather intensely lived life.  However, I am no longer the drama magnet that I used to be, so maybe....

Maybe I should just think of this a period of rejuvenation.  Not a prelude to anything just a period of soaking it all in and being...

I'll just enjoy living right now. 

____________

Clear Conversatin'...

I have been learning some valuable lessons about business communication.  I always thought I handled myself well, in a no-nonsense-cut-to-the-chase kind of way with a little friendly, warmth tossed into the mix for good measure.  Now, I'm starting to think not. 

After a morning of phone calls and contact over the weekend with a somewhat arrogant and abrasive group of people who I thought were out of my business horizon (and life) forever, I am beginning to reevaluate myself.

In trying to become a better communicator I have let the pendulum swing back a little too far. Where once I gave inadequate information, I now tend to over-explain and I don't know how I got here or how to find a balance or if I'm just a little sensitive today.

To be continued...

That Thing...

Why do I always feel that there is so much to do?  Is there really?  I mean, really?

In this case yes.  

I have given myself another year before heading to France for good; I think I said that.

I know that the coming days will be filled with thinking, planning, excitement, self-doubt, and of course,  WORK.

There is so much work to do that I may even forget those aspects of life that seem to have gone perpetually undone all of these years.  I may forget the yearning for that certain something that I've come to believe will evade me for the rest of my days.  I won't name "that thing"  it's better that way.

Feed Your Mind...Part 2

I'm trying to read again.  So that I can finally honor my intentions that led me to forgo buying/hustling a television set.  I got some reading done, earlier this year.  Made a list, you know.  Then, of course, it fell by the wayside.  I let life (and trife) get in the way...So I'm back at it. 

It pains me to say that I've only completed one of the books on the list to follow and the others I'm juggle simultaneously...

Completed:

Perfume - Patrick Suskind 

Reading Simultaneously:

Suite Francaise - Irene Nemirovsky

A Lover's Discourse - Roland Barthes

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

Last Report On The Miracles at Little No Horse - Louise Erdrich (love. her.)*

Planning to Start:

Ralph Ellison - Arnold Rampersand

(and of course all of the rest of the books on the list from February I still haven't gotten to...)

Perfume.  What can I say other than I was a bit disappointed.  In the end it just kind of spun out of control and lost me.  Left me wondering, much as I always do after intense exposure to 'German-ness' what's really going on up in that piece?  Anyway, this book started out brilliantly.  What an amazing story and story teller in Patrick Suskind.  However, the cave episode almost lost me and the bizarre and rather 6th-grade-language-arts-class-special-Halloween 'scary'-story-assignment ending was too much and not enough all at once.  Sigh. That's literally what I did upon finishing.  I was waiting to be scared out of my pants.  It could have happened too, but...

Wait!  I just remembered in my guilt that I've been reading quite a bit.  As a favor to a friend, I agreed to become a reader for a local literary journal.  I have read at least 50 short stories in the past three months.  I have also read quite a few essays written by food writers in preparation for the class I am teaching.  Remembering that allows me to feel much better about my reading life. I had to say that out loud to make myself feel better!

Anyway, my plan is to finish all of these books listed above by summer's end.  Except maybe A Lover's Discourse.  That is truly one to consult periodically as circumstances dictate.  I may also hold off on Ralph Ellison until the fall, I don't know that I'm in the right frame of mind for a 625+ page account of the life of a brilliant yet self-hating negro.  It's summertime for goodness sakes!  We'll see about that one.

I'm going to have to make a plan.

*Ahhh...the prolific and fabulous Louise Erdrich.  Along with Toni Morrison, a writer idol of mine, though I am now four books behind.  I still have The Master Butcher's Singing Club, Four Souls, The Painted Drum, and the latest:   The Plague of Doves to savor.  

  

Here in the Chi, it's hot as all get out...

We're in the midst of another week long stretch of ninety degree temperatures and some very serious humidity.  Actually, I have to say again, it's really not that hot (low nineties, which I can handle) but with the humidity, it can get to be too much to bear.  

So, I am trying to do what I can to stay sane and trying not to turn on the air conditioner.  I have two fans running.  Sometimes I wonder, if 2 fans = 1 air conditioner on medium/low.  Who knows.  

I have finally gotten the copy written for my business website and I'm hoping that gets up and running soon.

Now, I'm about to start polishing the copy that I've written for my writer's site.  A good friend of mine, who I've known for ages, is going to design it for me.  I know it's going to be great.  I'm really excited.

These days, I don't have the most exciting news, but that feels good.  No real drama and the kind that's in my life now, is good, or will be in the end.

All is well...

Making my way...

This week two shitty things happened.  Two clients flaked on me, which is really par for the course in my business, if you'll excuse the trite expression.  That means almost $1000 that may never see my bank account, but truthfully, I think it may have been for the best.  I say this because another family situation has arisen and it has made me realize how far I've come personally (emotionally) and professionally in the last few years.

As much as I need the money and the exposure and pieces for my burgeoning portfolio, I know that the two people who bailed out, one callously and selfishly, the other weakly and sneakily, taught me a valuable lesson.  One is the relative of a dear friend and the other I made contact with and we were on the road to being friends, but she needed work for her business and it seemed the perfect fit.  I was wrong.  Anyway, I've learned two things (and maybe I'll add to this list as time passes and I reflect more on the situation):

1.  Don't do business with friends or relatives.  Now I can't make that a hard and fast rule, because I'm doing business with a friend but we are working more as partners.  Perhaps I should say here, don't provide goods or services to a friend or relative in the context of a business transaction.

2.  If people are bad clients, that is to say, pushy, rude, selfish, lacking boundaries, weak, or passive-agressive, you don't want them in your life anyway, in any capacity.  I'm going to also go out on a limb and say that they probably exhibit these same characteristics in their personal relationships to a greater or lesser degree.

A few years ago, I might have lamented this whole situation.  I would have analyzed it to death and thought of it as a personal reflection on me.  I certainly wouldn't have reacted the way I did, which was to immediately get angry in a flash that passed as quickly as it came upon me.  I then gave the deadbeats a few choice words and moved on to the next.  

So far in this business I've had people from all walks of life flake out on me:  a wanna-be celebrity chef in L.A., a couple of well-meaning but slightly provincial "ghetto executives," the editor of a fairly well-known magazine, and now these two.  It's always tough too take and I imagine there will be many more and I will spend more time licking my wounds than I did this time around.  Overall, however, I'm proud that I've gotten to a place in my life where I see no other option but to put myself out there.  Now, I feel like I don't know how to live any other way.

I like that.

Summer Fun

Went to the Taste of Chicago today.  Saw Stevie Wonder, ate Colombian food.

It's true, food and music unite the masses.

Make my day...

Here are seven very good things that have happened in the last week:

1.  Yesterday, I took the plunge and took art that I bought long ago (real art not mass-produced posters) to be framed. I went to a place on Chicago Avenue called April 7s Custom Framing. The owners were fabulous and when I walked in one of their dogs greeted me by licking my toes--sounds gross, but it was actually very sweet.  Should have known I was in the right place then.  Anyway, three pieces will be beautifully framed and ready to travel with me wherever I may go. All for the bargain price (?!?) of $987.00, to be paid in installments (lots of installments) of course.  I highly recommend then for anyone who has finally purchased a real couch of their own and is interested in taking that next step!

2.  I finally got in touch with a man who's planning to open an Algerian pastry shop here. Exciting. I'll head to his cafe next week for chakchouka, merguez, mint tea, and great conversation next week.

3.  I realized that I am ready to get back out and try dating again.  Don't know how I'm going to do it, but I'm sure going to try.  It seems to daunting.  But really how long can a sista lick her wounds?  

4.  I finally found a part time job!  Yea!  Now, I'll always be able to pay my rent, which is nice. Most importantly I can start looking for a new apartment with confidence.  Although I'd rather be looking for my ticket to move abroad.  Soon enough, soon enough...

5.  In a comment on one of my articles for The Root a reader encouraged me to write a book.  Oh, I'm feeling the love, yes I am!

6.  I officially have my first two clients.  Things are moving along.

7.  I found someone to braid my hair!

My Latest on The Root...

I am a contributor to The Root, which is an online magazine with a focus on all topics, issues, concerning black people, which means it focuses on everything.  It's a great online publication and a sister to Slate, which I also love.  Awhile back, another article I wrote was picked up by Slate, which means it was on the Slate.com website too.  Check that one out here.

I like this latest article.  It's really helping me explore the topic of food in the African Diaspora. While I have been focusing largely on the Americas, I'm exciting to explore the Diaspora of Europe and other regions and I'm also really excited to explore the food of North Africans and other groups not typically associated but inextricably part of the African Diaspora.  After all, North Africans are African, but that's another post entirely, I won't get into that here.  Both of the articles I have written and a few upcoming topics are helping me organize my thoughts about a book or series of essays I hope to write.  A study of the food of the Diaspora is long overdue and I just can't wait to get writing, researching, and tasting in earnest!

I'd love to hear comments and reflections on the topic.  Please share your ideas about cross cultural connections of food and ingredients here or at The Root at either of my articles.  

Check out my latest on the topic here.

By the way, that photography is all mine too!

Paris, mon amour...

I think that I have made the decision to stay put one more year, as much as I want to go back to Paris tout de suite.  I came back for love and to get my mind right.  Now that my mind's right I feel like the rest will follow or maybe not and if not, that's alright, because, of course, my mind's right. 

What I am trying to do is build my writing business so that I can live like I live here there, if that makes sense.  It's going slowly and right now I'm feeling not so surely, and boy I miss my spot.  

I miss the smells and the sounds of Paris.  I miss the neighborhoods where I hung out and my soul opened up again.  I miss walking around Chateau Rouge trying to find a place to get my hair braided.  I miss my mint tea and my patisseries.  I miss my movies any time of day or night.  I miss my favorite cafe off the boulevard Saint Michel, surprisingly devoid of tourists. I miss my walks through Pere Lachaise where I could reflect undisturbed.  The dead generally mind their own business...

I miss the fine men, the flirting, the hustle and bustle, the sophistication of it all that makes Chicago look like a podunk backwater and even New York (a little bit).  I miss it.  I miss eating scrambled eggs sprinkled with a bit of Emmenthaler that taste like heaven.  Like no other eggs anywhere.  I miss my cafe creme and my cafe haunts.  I miss my favorite bookstore on rue Saint Maur and I miss eating the ambrosial mammoul found at La Grande Mosquee de Paris.  

I miss going to the Louvre at night and that stretch on the metro ligne 6 (that's Charles de Gaulle Etoile and Nation) between the Dupleix and Bir Hakeim stops at night. Each time you ride at night and reach that point and see the Eiffel Tower lit up you lose your breath, you forget how beautiful, how seductive it all is.  You are reminded at that point each time of where you are, not that you could ever forget.

God.  I have to get back home.

Fine As Wine In The Summertime...

My dad used to say that all of the time when I was a kid...

while buying tomato sauce at a supermarket not far from my house, i saw, one of the most handsome men i've ever seen.  hmmmm.  he and his friend comported themselves well in our brief exchange (that consisted of only of a hello).  too much.  still thinking of him the next day...

El Raton

Okay, this is the jam...

I mean not of this genre, but perhaps of all time.  Seriously.

Here's the live version of Cheo Feliciano's classic "El Raton" performed by the Fania All-Stars in Africa in 1974 I think.  If you can get the original do that too, but this is awesome, really, everyone.  In this clip there's Johnny Pacheco, Cheo Feliciano, Jorge Santana, Ismael Quintana, Ismael Miranda, Santos Colon, Hector Lavoe, and I think, Ray Baretto might be in it too. 

Seriously, stop playing, the jam of all time. 

I can count on one hand the number of musicians in any genre who get down like this anymore.

Summer Lovin'? Not so much...

Today I had an appointment for which I was, of course, running late.  At least I thought I was so I decided to take a cab from my neighborhood in Ukrainian Village to the Chicago/Franklin area in River North.  I got into a cab with who I thought was a chocolate-ly love muffin, tall with dark smooth skin; as I surveyed the situation from the back seat I decided that together with his cab driving-salary and mine from freelancing gigs that we could make a good life together.  Then about two blocks into the ride, I noticed he was listening to Rush Limbaugh.  "Rush Limbaugh!"  I shrieked.  He asked me slightly condescendingly (I now realize) if I knew who RL was.  "Of course," I responded "the real question is:  'Do you know who he is?'" (perhaps equally condescending on my part) The conversation progressed (devolved) and shifted to women somehow and he stated that he would love to come back in his next life to be a woman, because all we do is lie around at home with men buying us things, paying our bills and taking us out to eat, while men work hard.  He informed me that he works 12 hours a day driving.  He was outwardly hostile and I thought to myself and of course informed him that he might want to rethink the company he keeps.  By that time I'd arrived at my destination.  In parting I let him know that dealing with crusty ass negroes (and I use that term as a catch all for men of all races and creeds) is a full-time job in and of itself.  

I was feeling sassy, what can I say?

I was really struck by the experience, he was so vehement about it and in that short exchange, I could feel how venomous and bitter his attitude was about women, what he feels they represent, and his relationship to them.  All I kept thinking is that if he is with someone right now, he beats her ass on the regular.  Not so nice.  

Later in the afternoon I went for a walk.  I decided to go buy some plantains and I wanted to try once again to make a pot of arroz con gandules.  I never quite get it right, but I thought 'I'll go pick up the gandules and some sausage, and I'll take my time with it.'  So I headed out.  

Now, I must offer this bit of information, it's sunny and warm and I am looking real cute these days.  My skin has taken on this coppery shimmer from my walks and bike rides, and well, I am really happy and I think I'm just exuding all of that. 

Additionally it is holla season (as me and my girls like to call it) and I was walking through the 'hood.  It's a documented fact that dudes --young and old-- get real ignorant in the summer time.  Not all, but quite frankly, most, so I was braced for the "Ooh girl, you got a big booty!" or the "que culon!" or even the "Are you married, I think I could be a real good friend to you..." or the ubiquitous "Umph Umph Umph" or last but not least, uttered with a most lecherous growl the "Ay mamita/morena/churra, dime que quieres" type of comments...

Anyway, as I was headed into grocery store a drunk and/or hype ass negro screamed a garbled comment about my behind and presumably what he would do to if given the chance.  I wasn't sure at first until a man who was perhaps acting as a security guard yelled to him to go home and looked at me.  It was at that point that I got a little embarrassed, which made me angry. It's crazy the level of misogyny that we face on a daily basis and no one says or does anything about it.  Men who don't engage in those comments stand around and say nothing, other men who do engage feel it's o.k., that it's their right and privilege.  

The fact that the man at the store felt he could say this and that even the cab driver felt compelled to rant makes me wonder just how much respect (or maybe just how little) black and brown men have for black and brown women in general.  I already know the answer to that question, unfortunately.  Sigh.

Never did get that pot of arroz con gandules going.

Juneteenth is upon us...

About two weeks ago on a hot, humid, now rainy Saturday afternoon in Chicago we had been experiencing a string of days where temperatures hovered the high eighty-mid ninety degree range with crazy humidity.  Although it had been fairly mild, as there had been a very nice breeze all week, I knew it, the breeze that is, would not last.  

So I broke down and I bought an air conditioner with money I don't really have because my pet rabbit has been cranky and unwilling to frolic joyfully around the house as she normally does.  She was so cranky yesterday that she made me cranky.  I suppose that's more a function of the fact that I work from home and sometimes, for days on end, she is my only company.  Don't get me wrong, I also bought it because I know that soon enough I'll be caught on a day when the temperature is 98% with 90% humidity and the sun streaming into my windows.  It will be a 72-hour period when the temperature fluctuates about five degrees but you can't tell because the humidity hovers between 90% and 97%.  It will be one of those periods where you walk outside and you start pouring sweat even if you don't really sweat, because of the humidity.  Anyway, I got it.  

I started thinking though, about the ancestors, and how they managed to harvest cotton, tobacco, sugarcane, indigo, rice, you name it in the heat of the South, the Caribbean, Latin America, etc.  How did they slave away (no pun intended) in infernally hot kitchens cooking for families, or work as plantation blacksmiths in the searing heat and humidity of all of these regions?  The realization of that feat alone demands that we straighten up our acts and cut out the ridiculousness, self hate, and self-abuse that have become the hallmarks of the daily lives of black people everywhere.  Oh my god.  Really, if someone stuck me in front of the cotton/sugarcane/tobacco field or rice paddy, even in the pleasant breezy heat of the last few days, expecting me to hoe, plow, chop, or whatever you do in any of those situations, I would have been, well, there are no words.  

So each day in the heat of this and every summer to come, I will maintain quiet, yet fierce reverence of my ancestors, and heck even my not so distant deceased relatives who were bound to that life by Jim Crow and sharecropping.  Think about that as you try to beat the heat this summer.

Get on the good foot...

For real, I need to find that cut by James Brown and get it running on an endless loop here at the crib.  Endless loop, am I showing my age?  And the picture?  Just love it, that's all...

I have so much to do.  I have so many ideas and I'm having trouble getting myself back on track after a recent events that shall remain unexplained here.

The four biggest things on my agenda:

1.  Preparing the syllabus for the food writing course I'll be teaching at Kendall College this summer.  Amazing that they just accepted my proposal without a lot of rigamarole.  

2.  Begin to plan a trip to North Africa and Turkey for vacation in the fall and for research for my next writing projects.  Plenty of dates and patisseries will be involved.  Oh yes.

3.  Make it up to Wisconsin to visit Growing Power, an organization trying to do big things in the way of urban farming in the Chicago area.  I'm hoping to put together an essay (what will hopefully be my fourth or fifth by then, check my first here) for The Root and maybe some other places, we'll see.

4.  Get in touch with the owner of a local cafe here that serves les gateaux.  I want to see if I can make them here.  I mean if I can't get to Paris as soon as I thought I would, I may as well make my sweet little loves part of life on American soil.  (With luck, I can get some lessons in making couscous--the actual grains, that is--I've tried it and was, well, fairly unsuccessful.)

Yes.  So much to do, so little time to nap.

**I also need to write here as much as possible.  I need to get some structure back in my routine.  Oh and more music and dancing, as much as I can possibly take!  Oh wait, and more baking, and...

Happy Endings...

For some reason tonight I feel compelled to write this:

After 11 long years, a "relationship" I had with a "man" is finally over.  It took so long because we both refused to let go of one another.  We had our reasons for holding onto each other, none of them good, of course, but we stayed put nonetheless.  

Things actually ended in January after him calling me out of the blue and a series of therapeutic emails that help me finally accept what I'd seen all along:  what I looked for in him for years didn't actually exist, I'd been willing it into existence and failing miserably.  So, in January I sent the final email I plan to send in which I told him everything that had ever bothered me about him. Certainly some of it was petty, but it's what allowed me to let it all go.

I did and I have never been happier.