This is a First

Confession: I have never, 

in all my culinary years, cooked a turkey.

Resolution: To change.

Solution:

 Buy a fresh young turkey [born for such a day as this].

 Stir up some brine.

 Make introductions.

 Stick him in a bag [and apologize for grossed-out friend's less-than-welcoming behavior].

 Introduce turkey to brine, brine to turkey.

 Plop them both in the cooler,

 and stick them in the garage.

Pack with ice, and go to bed.

Awake,

to a delightfully snowy day.

 Gather together a mixture of flavor;

 chop.

 Introduce flavor to its new home;

 introduce turkey to his.

Wait. Listen to the freezing rain dripping down around the house.  Breathe in the incredible  aroma of a fresh young turkey, 

living out his destiny.

 Soon enough, remove turkey from oven;

collect his drippings while he rests.

[He's had a long day.]

Then, since the party you were aiming to share him at is postponed to next week due to weather, 

carve him up [and acknowledge to yourself that perhaps your carving skills need some work].

Package him up for the freezer [with large amounts of snitching], and pat yourself on the back for successfully completing your mission.

A first for me,

a first for him.

I wonder who enjoyed it more?

I've always wanted one...

Let me tell you a story from my past.

I was in college, telling all of my friends my newest plan:

To get my nose pierced.

Long story short, one of my friends got her nose pierced first.

And I, being ferociously independent, would not consider being considered a follower, and so remained pierceless.

I consoled myself with the thought that there was always time, there was always the future.

Through the years, I've thought about it here and again.  For a variety of reasons, however, I've set the idea aside each time.

But, this past weekend, I found myself in the mall, at a piercing booth, hearing answers to questions nose-piercing related....

for dear old Katy Stu.

Indeed, my good friend took the nose piercing plunge, as I looked on with supportive cheer.

And, though she offered me the opportunity to share in her moment, 

I declined.

Take your moment girl, 'cause you look great.

[I'll just think on joining you...for another 10 years...]

Last First Snow?

Things are a-changin' at my house, 

with engagements and opportunities elsewhere for my housemates.

I find myself in a season of 'this will probably be the last [insert occasion here] in this house...', and, since this house has been good to me, it seems a bit poignant.

So, when I woke up later than usual this morning, slipped downstairs to make my coffee, and stood looking out on the deck in a semi-routine moment of gazing out on the morning sky, 

I thought:

Last First Snow.

[Setting aside my reaction of 'why is there snow on the ground?!']
I paused, to take a moment to say unto myself: 'Notice this. Allow the closing of this season to unfold before you. Remember to breathe it in, remember to remember it.'

Last First Snow, I see you.

A Good [Culinary] Day

My life these past weeks have been full of all kinds of good things.  I've been full-fledged going, with classes and meetings and talks, with piano babies, other babies, reading and writing and rehearsals and friends.  My days have been long, as I make an intention to invest in the season I find myself in, in the work and the people around me.  But yesterday, in this beautiful thing called an academic life, I found myself with a day off.

Hence, 

I found myself in my kitchen,

 

cookin' up a storm.

First, I whipped up an Almond Cranberry Cake,

and made the dough for Scottish Crackers while it baked;

then,

I curdled a giant pot of milk,

in order to achieve some beyond delicious ricotta cheese.

Once the cheese was chilling in the fridge, 

I turned back to my beloved pot 

(the best purchase I have ever made, by the way, 

and potentially my best friend)

and fried up some chorizo and chicken thighs.

I added a multitude of ingredients, 

until--voila:

Paella.

[It. was. ridiculous.]

Joined by lovelies,

we closed out my culinary day with good eating,

with good wine, good laughter, good music, good talking;

culinary and otherwise,
good in every way.

Hashing out Life: The Fall Routine

The theme of my life these days has been: routine.  

So it's not all that surprising that in attempting to write about Lisa/Geoff/Frankie's fall visit, I find myself noticing--it's all about...[do I need to say it?]

They arrive, to hot toddies.  Apple crisp.

We talk late, and droop our way to bed.

We wake to a delicious breakfast [some of us later than others], and then wander off somewhere.

This year we made our way to a nearby winery, 

for an afternoon full of local treats.

If you hit up any farmer's market in this town, you will find the same vendors, time and time again. So, L & G tried some cheese

from the cheese lady;

tamales

from the tamale guy.

We took in the scenery, ate up the yum, 

talked and talked and talked.

We made our way into the wine tasting room [along with the musicians who seemed to want to be in our presence, taking up their stage in every section of the place we happened to be in]

and drank of the fruit of the vine.

And, through it all of course, 

Lisa and I had our little photo shoot:

It's all routine, I'm telling you.

Weary from the wandering, we return home.

There's a fire.

Margaritas from the master.

Talking, talking, talking.

A ridiculous dinner is prepared,

served.

G takes our picture.

We eat, we remark, we call it the best dinner yet.

We talk, talk, talk.

We finish out the night, late.

We wake in the morning, make our way to worship.

Come home, L & G pack up, I make a rustically fall-y lunch.

We eat.

We talk, talk, talk.

The afternoon runs long, until we can't stretch it out anymore.  

L & G gather up their belongings, Frankie and I say a guarded good-bye, and they leave me.

Until, next time.

Because Hashing Out Life is our very own, lovely, necessary:

routine.

Treats

It's 10 am on a cloudy fall Saturday morning,

and I am curled up in my bed, reading proposals.

Really interesting proposals, 

about all sorts of interesting people and places.

[Treat: I love reading about really interesting people and places.

Extra Treat: I love being curled up in my bed, 

reading about really interesting people and places.]

Technically they're for work, and technically I believe in no work for the weekend, but this week I was heavily imbued in the process of writing my own proposal/article, 

and my desk was covered in my own thoughts instead.

[Treat: To have stretches of daytime, 

in my office, to think, to read, to write.

Extra Treat: To think read and write 

about stuff that I find to be really interesting.]

That stuff that I find really interesting has to do with children, and how they learn, and how they enact their musical beings.  Which would explain why, yesterday afternoon, when I found my house absolutely packed full with my favorite little people, and their siblings, parents, and grandparents,

converging together for a Halloween piano party, 

I found myself thrilled.

[Treat: To sit on the floor in the middle of my living room, surrounded by my favorites, 

for the purpose of sharing our music with each other.

Extra Treat:  To experience the holistic essence of a musical life, complete with snacks, costumes, apple peeler demonstrations, and generations sprawling everywhere.]

And then, after I vacuumed [note to self: when having a rocking piano party that includes massive amounts of both children and popcorn, put your vacuum on 'immediate need' alert...], 

I rolled out the door for a Messiah rehearsal.

[Treat: To spend a few hours under the direction of a brilliant conductor and musician, making some beautiful music.

Extra Treat: To soak in the always-amazing-to-me reality that my fingers can move in such a way that beautiful sounds meet my deep soul need.]

And through it all, as I read, think, gather, play, I think:

My life is one big treat.

And I am one grateful girl.