kafe

So much coffee. Again. I always post on coffee highs, or people highs.

Sorry it's been a while. Holiday travels and piles of work have kept me pretty occupied. Spring is still creeping into town, all shy this year. But it's coming. My neighbor said she would put away her boots, and I finally took down my Christmas wreath, so winter has to be over. We decided.

Tonight the gals and I are making pita pizzas, with a bbq chicken / carmelized onion option. Mm mm good. I'm pretty excited about it. That's one thing I'm thankful for. Another is Pandora Radio. Yet another is online lit research databases.

What are you thankful for today?

Buzz! Buzz! I'm drinking loads of caffeinated fizzy beverage and eating these curry-flavored potato crisps that Brandi thought weren't so great, but they really grow on you. Or at least they grow on me.

This is the part of almost-spring where riotous sunshine is overtaken by days of cloud and drizzle, runny noses, dramatic tumbles and twirls in the weather and my mood. This is the part where we have daffodils in cobalt cups, pink carnations in coffee mugs (from a neighbor overwhelmed by our willingness to take out her garbage--that speaks for itself of our city culture). This is the part where I buzz from group to group, meetings and coffee dates and even miniature childcare gigs, like a pollinating little bumblebee hoping things will flower soon. (This is also the part where we eat repetitive leftovers and wonder how anyone else ever gets their laundry done, lest you think our life too rosy.)

Forgive the strained metaphor.

I'm skipping poetry playtime this afternoon in order to get some work done, which should probably not involve writing a blog post, but it's been a while. Caffeine always makes me expansively verbal. Tomorrow my students have a paper due, so I will bake zucchini bread for them in a bit (or chocolate chip cookies, if I have chocolate chips and can tamp down my health conscience about giving 18-year-olds cookies for breakfast). I also have a group presentation tomorrow night, and I foolishly began Paradise last night, which is a rather long Toni Morrison novel that has me hooked and twisted in its mystery already and is really tempting me to read it. Have any of you read the book before? After this I only have Love left, and I think I might feel bereft when this wandering through TM is over (though is it ever, really?).

P.S. Classes for summer and fall are looking to be ridiculously wonderful. Sigh. Buzz.

washing lettuce and a fifty-degree afternoon

I find such profound satisfaction in preparing dinner some nights. Tonight, for instance, I stood at the sink washing lettuce, the frigid water numbing my knuckles, and reveled in the delight of it. I had chicken sizzling in a skillet, souped up with garlic and oregano, and I had red and yellow peppers and a purple onion to chop. Setting the table, filling our glasses, grabbing a trivet, I felt competent. I felt like I was taking care of things, feeding myself and my love something genuinely good.

This connects, I think, not only to the fresh hint-of-spring day we had, but also to my recent reading of The Little House Cookbook, a childhood favorite. This paperback borrows Garth Williams's delightful illustrations from Laura Ingalls Wilder's books and provides recipes for the myriad foods mentioned (and lushly described) in the books.

I think the deep satisfaction in providing food for people I care about is also rooted in a history of family women who cook. My great-grandma always fed us when we visited. She had one of those old-fashioned cookie jars that was never empty. Does anyone even keep a cookie jar anymore? My grandma, too, has always been one to feed: she kept this extensive vegetable garden when I was young, and an herb garden (I remember the sharp tang of dill), and a flower garden. She also kept a freezer stocked with fudgesicles and cabinets full of trail mix and yogurt-covered raisins. My mom and my aunts, too, are masters in the kitchen. They turn out mythically wonderful meals for holidays and visits and, dare I say, normal life. They grow things, chop and simmer and bake, offer second helpings, and know how to enjoy the fruits of their labor. I am so blessed by their example.

sunshine on the way to an evening class!

This time change thing may not be so lovely in the morning, but it has its evening perks. I'm delighted to be heading out to my evening class with a blue sky and puffy clouds still visible. I'm even wearing a dress!

Yesterday I saw a girl on campus beating a fire out with a newspaper--someone had stuffed a Starbuck's cup full of cigarette butts, and it was burning. I wandered over and dumped my half-liter offering of Nalgene water on it, much to the girl's relief.

Today a complete stranger holding a steaming styrofoam cup of tea turned and told me that the birds were out again: a cardinal and a mourning dove on campus, and another cardinal in her backyard. I told her my mom had heard a robin in Michigan last week.

Josh's exam is done. And there was serious rejoicing in the land.

home again

From Tuesday until Saturday I was in Michigan--not exactly how I planned to spend Spring Break, but everso worth it. We found out Wednesday that my suddenly quite sick grandma has cancer, and then we spent Wednesday through Saturday in the hospital, pilfering nurses' station coffee (not the best) and hanging out. Thursday night I stayed with Grandma, and I think my favorite part was sitting on the edge of her bed together to watch the sunrise. The sky was overcast, and it looked like God had his finger on a dimmer switch and was slowly pulling up the dim blue light over the winter trees.

Josh's huge comprehensive M.A. exam is Wednesday at 10:00, so now that I'm home I'm trying to be a supportive housemate and let him choose the music and read at the lunch table. Tonight I made him pork chops, wild rice, and peas, with pecan bars for dessert. We'll eat them soon. They're basically naughty and delicious cheater pecan pie...mmmm.

And that, my friends, is that. Please pray for my grandma and for my Josh.