I recently went to Whole Foods Market for my occasional splurge shopping trip! I love to go there and find myself coming home with all sorts of unusual ingredients and interesting wines. This time, I decided to give the meat counter a whirl. After perusing the selection, I decided to give their italian sausage a try. Perhaps the extra care (and cost) that goes into their sausage would be worth the trip. With nothing particular in mind to cook with these beauties, I settled on making meatballs to go into a basic fresh tomato sauce for pasta.
I have a meatball recipe that I love so I made the meatballs, baking them to the right temperature before putting them into the sauce to simmer.
When they came out of the oven, I couldnt help but taste one of those sizzling luscious balls of meat. YIKES! Those suckers were HOT! I dont mean temperature hot! I mean spicy, burn your tongue, hot! I have a love of all things spicy and can tolerate that sort of heat pretty well! But my husband and children can only tolerate a little heat. That is why I purchased five mild sausages and only two hot sausages at Whole Foods. I thought that the two sausages would add that little touch of spice that would give that punch of flavor that I desired. If I was expecting a punch, I got a whollop!
I guess the message I would like to pass along is that Whole Foods hot italian sausage is ground up FIRE! I will be serving the meatballs but I think the kids will go meatless tonight! Beware!
Oh, and here is my meatball recipe. This is not an original recipe and I am unsure where I got it so I cannot give due credit! For that, I apologize!
Italian Meatballs
2lbs Italian sausage ( YOU pick the heat!)
2 eggs, lightly beaten
2/3cup dry bread crumbs
1/2cup grated parmesan cheese (freshly grated is best)
1/2cup milk
1/2cup finely chopped onion
4 garlic cloves, minced2T dried parsley
salt and pepper
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F
2. In a large bowl, combine the egg, bread crumbs, parmesan cheese, milk, onion,
garlic and parsley. Add sausage to the mixture and mix well but gently.
3. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until meatballs are cooked through (160 degrees). Serve
with sauce or spaghetti.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Pimiento Cheese - The Pate' of the South
When I was thinking about an introduction to this post, I did some research into the origin of pimiento cheese and how it became a uniquely Southern condiment/salad/stuffer/sandwich spread. However, I found that the quintessential article on the origins of pimiento cheese had already been penned. Robert F. Moss has written an excellent piece on the history of pimiento cheese that I highly recommend! Mr. Moss shares that "The South can't claim pimento cheese as its own invention, but the state of Georgia was actually the center of the nation's pimento growing and canning industry." This would certainly explain why pimiento cheese became so popular in the South.
I assume you left to read Robert's article and are well-versed on the history and tradition of this yummy food! Now, let's talk the basic ingredients of Southern Pimiento Cheese. At this point, I have to say that I do know that pimiento cheese, like all Southern comfort foods, is being "gourmet-ified" in many upscale restaurants these days. I have seen all sorts of crazy ingredients being used to glamorize and glorify pimiento cheese. I suppose there is nothing wrong with a chef playing around with his food. However, my opinion is that Southern pimiento cheese, if freshly made with good ingredients, doesn't need any doctoring. There are some definite "do's and don'ts" when it comes to making fresh pimiento cheese. Let's start there.
1. Don't use preshredded cheese EVER! Preshredded cheese is made to stay separate and resist sticking together. This is exactly what you DON'T want! Use quality sharp or extra sharp cheese from a block and shred it.
2. Shred the cheese in the large hole of a grater. Never pulverize the cheese in a food processor. You want the flavor of the cheese to shine through the other ingredients. Cheese that has been reduced to mush will taste like flavored mush!
3. Use full-fat mayonnaise if you can. If you simply must cut the fat and calories, please only use light or low fat mayonnaise. Never use fat free mayo. I will sometimes use a mixture of full and low fat mayo to cut some added fat. But just face it! Pimiento cheese is not diet food - unless you serve it on celery! Okay, not even then!
4. Do not rinse the pimiento. Drain the jar of pimiento and leave it in a colander for a few minutes but don't rinse off the wonderful juice. It adds a layer of flavor to the pimiento cheese that you don't want to wash down the drain. Chop the pimiento finely right before mixing with the other ingredients.
5. Prepare pimiento cheese in advance for the best flavor. Pimiento cheese needs time for the flavors to meld. A couple of hours is okay, but overnight is so much better!
6. Don't be afraid to season the mixture! While I am not a fan of adding crazy flavors and textures that don't belong in pimiento cheese-just for the sake of originality- I do suggest that you season the pimiento cheese according to your family's tastes.
If you will keep the above tips in mind, your pimiento cheese will inspire oohs and ahhs from your guests. The following is my Pimiento Cheese recipe. I have also included my recipe for Baked Pimiento Cheese Dip. Enjoy!
Leslie's Pimiento Cheese
2 cups grated extra sharp cheddar cheese (freshly grated with
large-hole grater)
1/2- 3/4 cup regular mayonnaise (I like Hellman's)
3T chopped pimiento, drained (I usually use the whole jar,
but that measurement is about right)
2T grated onion, or one green onion coarsely chopped
1t prepared yellow mustard
2 shakes Jalapeno Green Tobasco sauce* (optional)
Salt and pepper, to taste
* Instead of the Green Tobasco, you may substitute 2 fresh (not jarred) jalapeno peppers, finely chopped or 1/8 t cayenne pepper.
Combine all and season to taste. Refrigerate two hours or overnight. Serve on fresh white bread for sandwiches or on trimmed celery. I have even served it stuffed into a tomato.
Lucky Baked Pimiento Cheese Dip
We call this dish "lucky" because we first served it the night Alabama won the 2009 National Championship. I'm not saying the dip caused the win, but we still serve it on big game nights... just to be sure!
1 1/2 cup mayo 1t finely grated onion
(dried minced works fine)
1/4 cup sour cream 1/4t ground red pepper
1 (4oz) jar diced pimiento, drained 1 (8oz block) sharp cheddar cheese, grated
2t Worcestershire sauce 1 (8oz block) pepper jack cheese*, grated
Stir together first six ingredients in a large bowl; stir in cheeses. Spoon mixture into a lightly greased 2qt baking dish. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes or until dip is golden and bubbly. Serve with Fritos scoops, Triscuits or thick tortilla chips
* Taste your pepper jack cheese before adding the red pepper. I have found that the heat level in this cheese varies greatly! You might not need the added pepper. If you want NO heat, substitute Monterey jack cheese for the pepper jack
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Springing a "Leek" on the Family
My latest obsession is trying out new foods in the produce aisles! Okay I don't actually try them out IN the produce aisle. I wait until I get home. The foods that I am talking about aren't actually "new" foods either. However, having grown up in the deep south, there are many fresh fruits and vegetables that Grandma didn't use! This week, I bought about six leeks and decided that I would learn all that I could about this vegetable that looks like a southern green onion on steroids!
It may look like a green onion but it is actually a sheep in wolf's clothing! I would have thought that the great big leek would pack a huge onion flavor! A bit of online research tells me that the leek has a very mild flavor and is a good "onion" when you want the onion to take a back seat to other flavors. I have also learned a couple of other bits of information about the leek. Leeks were once prized by the Greeks and Romans because they thought that they were good for the throat. They were introduced to Great Britain by the Romans. Leeks are very familiar to British cooks as they are a common vegetable in that region. Their weather is particularly conducive to growing leeks. This is probably the reason that leeks never really caught on in Alabama. Leeks like cold weather and loose soil, neither of which are abundant down here! Leeks are very nutritious. They are a good source of folate and B vitamins. I found a really good overview of the nutrition and basic cooking techniques for leeks on a website called World's Healthiest Foods.
The main thing that I learned about leeks in my research is that they are dirty little buggers!! Almost every description of leeks mentions how thoroughly they need to be cleaned in order to avoid being gritty! I am glad for the information because my leeks look perfectly clean on the outside! I would have simply washed the outside. There are two ways that I found to clean leeks, depending on how you plan to cut them for use.
Before washing, cut off the dark green tops. Most sites suggest disposing of these leaves, but I did find one home chef that says she uses them whole to flavor slow cooking soups and stews. If you plan to use large pieces of the leek, take your knife and split it almost to the root. Gently pull it open and allow running water to rinse between all of the layers.
If you plan to slice the leek, go ahead and thinly slice it. Place it all in a deep bowl of cold water and swish it around in the bowl. Allow it to sit for at least five minutes and allow the grit to settle into the bottom of the bowl. Next, skim the leek gently off of the top of the water, being careful not to disturb the grit at the bottom!
Now, how am I going to cook these things?? The World's Healthiest Foods site lists a simple way to saute the leeks. I used this method to cook one of the leeks. While I enjoyed eating my leek prepared this way, I didn't think it would be particularly tasty to my family, not to mention it looks like onions, which would be an instant turn-off to my kids! I do recommend this method and plan to experiment in the future. I am thinking that this would be a great side if finely diced carrots were added along with a flavored olive oil in the saute.
In my web travels, it seems that potato leek soup is the standard recipe for utilizing leeks. I am wanting to go in a different direction so I look for something that will make the leek the "star" of the dish. I went ahead with a soup because it seems that leeks and soup are a natural! The dish I prepared was Cock-A-Leekie Soup from Allrecipes.com. Sure, I liked that the name would inspire curiosity on the kids' part. But I liked the idea of a chicken soup on a gray day like today! This was a fabulous dish and the whole family loved it. I will say that I didn't taste the leek in the dish. But I guess, with leeks, that is the point. Leeks give a more subtle nod to onion flavor and brighten the dish. Onions are the lead singer and leeks provide the back-up "ooooooooooooh" notes that make the lead singer sound better. I will definitely use them again!
It may look like a green onion but it is actually a sheep in wolf's clothing! I would have thought that the great big leek would pack a huge onion flavor! A bit of online research tells me that the leek has a very mild flavor and is a good "onion" when you want the onion to take a back seat to other flavors. I have also learned a couple of other bits of information about the leek. Leeks were once prized by the Greeks and Romans because they thought that they were good for the throat. They were introduced to Great Britain by the Romans. Leeks are very familiar to British cooks as they are a common vegetable in that region. Their weather is particularly conducive to growing leeks. This is probably the reason that leeks never really caught on in Alabama. Leeks like cold weather and loose soil, neither of which are abundant down here! Leeks are very nutritious. They are a good source of folate and B vitamins. I found a really good overview of the nutrition and basic cooking techniques for leeks on a website called World's Healthiest Foods.
The main thing that I learned about leeks in my research is that they are dirty little buggers!! Almost every description of leeks mentions how thoroughly they need to be cleaned in order to avoid being gritty! I am glad for the information because my leeks look perfectly clean on the outside! I would have simply washed the outside. There are two ways that I found to clean leeks, depending on how you plan to cut them for use.
Before washing, cut off the dark green tops. Most sites suggest disposing of these leaves, but I did find one home chef that says she uses them whole to flavor slow cooking soups and stews. If you plan to use large pieces of the leek, take your knife and split it almost to the root. Gently pull it open and allow running water to rinse between all of the layers.
If you plan to slice the leek, go ahead and thinly slice it. Place it all in a deep bowl of cold water and swish it around in the bowl. Allow it to sit for at least five minutes and allow the grit to settle into the bottom of the bowl. Next, skim the leek gently off of the top of the water, being careful not to disturb the grit at the bottom!
Now, how am I going to cook these things?? The World's Healthiest Foods site lists a simple way to saute the leeks. I used this method to cook one of the leeks. While I enjoyed eating my leek prepared this way, I didn't think it would be particularly tasty to my family, not to mention it looks like onions, which would be an instant turn-off to my kids! I do recommend this method and plan to experiment in the future. I am thinking that this would be a great side if finely diced carrots were added along with a flavored olive oil in the saute.
In my web travels, it seems that potato leek soup is the standard recipe for utilizing leeks. I am wanting to go in a different direction so I look for something that will make the leek the "star" of the dish. I went ahead with a soup because it seems that leeks and soup are a natural! The dish I prepared was Cock-A-Leekie Soup from Allrecipes.com. Sure, I liked that the name would inspire curiosity on the kids' part. But I liked the idea of a chicken soup on a gray day like today! This was a fabulous dish and the whole family loved it. I will say that I didn't taste the leek in the dish. But I guess, with leeks, that is the point. Leeks give a more subtle nod to onion flavor and brighten the dish. Onions are the lead singer and leeks provide the back-up "ooooooooooooh" notes that make the lead singer sound better. I will definitely use them again!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Houndstooth Rules!
I recently saw a poll ,conducted on Facebook, regarding whether Alabama Crimson Tide fans liked the association of the houndstooth fabric pattern with the University of Alabama. It made me wonder whether this pollster had heard rumblings against the popular textile or if he was just posing the question. I never went back to see how the poll came out. I really hate that I missed the opportunity to see what the popular opinion is regarding houndstooth at Alabama. I absolutely love the connections and have several reasons why I believe that houndstooth is the best thing to hit campus on gameday in a long time!
There are few people, under thirty, who realize where Alabama got "houndstooth fever"---Okay, I should say few people under thirty "living outside the state of Alabama". Paul "Bear" Bryant was known for his houndstooth hat that he wore to every outdoor game. This was not a ball cap. This was back in the day when men wore fashionable felt or woolen hats when wearing a suit or even in cold weather. This would have been in the late 1950's and 1960's. My father and all of his friends wore hats whenever they went out. These hats were usually black, gray or a muted and understated plaid. Then -- in comes Coach Bryant. His hat was neither muted or understated. It was a large bold houndstooth pattern! He wore this style of hat for years when he coached games outdoors. If he was in a domed stadium, he wouldn't wear a hat at all. When asked, he always said "My momma always told me not to wear your hat in the house!"
I remember the Christmas when we bought my dad one of those houndstooth hats. These weren't the ones like you can get at a fan store today! These hats were well-made and expensive hats that men wore just as they did the more sedated styles that they replaced. It was a fashionable way for men to show their team loyalty and still look "dapper". (Yes, that word is as old as the hat-wearing tradition!) My dad was thrilled! While it was stylish, no self-respecting Auburn man would ever wear a houndstooth hat! So, even then, the pattern began to be associated with the University. So the houndstooth pattern has traditionally been associated with the University of Alabama and is part of our rich heritage that we should keep!
Look around at other NCAA schools. Name one other school who, along with their team colors, has a print that is their very own. Think about it. I will wait....No? Cant think of one, can you? Neither can I. Yes, our shade of crimson red is different from any other college team. But I bet that you could name at least three or four other schools that have red and white as their school colors. Houndstooth sets us apart! I mean, go to a Tennessee-Auburn game and you can probably spot the variations in the shade of orange that both teams use. But, lets face it, orange is orange. There are only so many color combinations that differentiate teams in the NCAA. It is just plain nice to have that extra something special that sets us apart. Houndstooth does that! It has begun to show up in small touches in our uniforms as well and I, for one, am very excited to see it! I also love the houndstooth ribbon painted on the field to remember the victims of the April tornadoes. It better represents the bond between the University and the Tuscaloosa community that any other emblem could.
I will admit that a little houndstooth goes a long way. It is a bit comical to visit a fan store and see some of the unusual items that are adorned with the pattern. Toilet paper, shoe strings, underwear, wrapping paper, and even wedding bands can be purchased in hounds tooth! I think this may be the reason for the Facebook poll. There can be too much of a good thing and, when it comes to college fan gear, this is usually a given! Perhaps the author of the poll is just getting tired of seeing the pattern abused. Seriously, is there ever a good time to have a roll of houndstooth toilet paper in the guest bath??
So what do you think? Do you like the connection of houndstooth to the University of Alabama? If not, why? I would love to hear from you. And for those of you who are not big houndstooth fans, come on!!! It could be worse! It could be polka dots!!!
There are few people, under thirty, who realize where Alabama got "houndstooth fever"---Okay, I should say few people under thirty "living outside the state of Alabama". Paul "Bear" Bryant was known for his houndstooth hat that he wore to every outdoor game. This was not a ball cap. This was back in the day when men wore fashionable felt or woolen hats when wearing a suit or even in cold weather. This would have been in the late 1950's and 1960's. My father and all of his friends wore hats whenever they went out. These hats were usually black, gray or a muted and understated plaid. Then -- in comes Coach Bryant. His hat was neither muted or understated. It was a large bold houndstooth pattern! He wore this style of hat for years when he coached games outdoors. If he was in a domed stadium, he wouldn't wear a hat at all. When asked, he always said "My momma always told me not to wear your hat in the house!"
I remember the Christmas when we bought my dad one of those houndstooth hats. These weren't the ones like you can get at a fan store today! These hats were well-made and expensive hats that men wore just as they did the more sedated styles that they replaced. It was a fashionable way for men to show their team loyalty and still look "dapper". (Yes, that word is as old as the hat-wearing tradition!) My dad was thrilled! While it was stylish, no self-respecting Auburn man would ever wear a houndstooth hat! So, even then, the pattern began to be associated with the University. So the houndstooth pattern has traditionally been associated with the University of Alabama and is part of our rich heritage that we should keep!
Look around at other NCAA schools. Name one other school who, along with their team colors, has a print that is their very own. Think about it. I will wait....No? Cant think of one, can you? Neither can I. Yes, our shade of crimson red is different from any other college team. But I bet that you could name at least three or four other schools that have red and white as their school colors. Houndstooth sets us apart! I mean, go to a Tennessee-Auburn game and you can probably spot the variations in the shade of orange that both teams use. But, lets face it, orange is orange. There are only so many color combinations that differentiate teams in the NCAA. It is just plain nice to have that extra something special that sets us apart. Houndstooth does that! It has begun to show up in small touches in our uniforms as well and I, for one, am very excited to see it! I also love the houndstooth ribbon painted on the field to remember the victims of the April tornadoes. It better represents the bond between the University and the Tuscaloosa community that any other emblem could.
I will admit that a little houndstooth goes a long way. It is a bit comical to visit a fan store and see some of the unusual items that are adorned with the pattern. Toilet paper, shoe strings, underwear, wrapping paper, and even wedding bands can be purchased in hounds tooth! I think this may be the reason for the Facebook poll. There can be too much of a good thing and, when it comes to college fan gear, this is usually a given! Perhaps the author of the poll is just getting tired of seeing the pattern abused. Seriously, is there ever a good time to have a roll of houndstooth toilet paper in the guest bath??
So what do you think? Do you like the connection of houndstooth to the University of Alabama? If not, why? I would love to hear from you. And for those of you who are not big houndstooth fans, come on!!! It could be worse! It could be polka dots!!!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Sixteen Year Old Boys...
"You Find Out Who Your Friends Are" is the title of a country and western song that was popular a few years back. I don't remember much about the song, except for this one line. I do remember that the point to the song was that you really find out who cares about you when times get rough. I understood that line and the song on an intellectual level. I have heard that sentiment, phrased in many different ways, many times in my life. The past two weeks have made me comprehend this simple statement on the deepest possible level. I believe that this discovery has opened my eyes to so many aspects of life and love and even God. Sometimes it is more important to discover the real friends of someone you love and that they are your friends too!
Two weeks ago, my sixteen year old son had a horrific accident on the soccer field. He dislocated his ankle and foot, broke his ankle and leg bone, and tore ligaments in his foot. This happened during a game against a team from out of town. The injury was extremely awful to see. With leg pointing north and south while the foot was pointing east and west (and down), it was very ugly and extremely painful for my son. The game was stopped, an ambulance called and the waiting began. We are fortunate to have an orthopedic surgeon dad on the team who is a dear friend as well. He was able to take charge and do all of the "right" things so my husband and I only had to worry about comforting him and holding ourselves together! It is funny how things like this are remembered in a slow motion fog of images. Snapshots of memories with no real continuity. A protective function of the brain? Probably. Godly comfort for the days ahead? Definitely.
The first thing that I remember after comforting my son on the ground for what seemed like hours (but was only a few minutes I am sure) is looking over at his teammates. They all have haunted, frightened looks on their faces--my first thought was that they looked like orphans who had been dropped off in an unfamiliar place. Lost. Several have tears on their faces. When I stand up to catch my breath and "regroup" my deteriorating composure, one of the guys from the team comes over and gives me a big bear hug. He tells me that the team has prayed for me and for my son. He tells me he loves me and my family. Two other guys hug me and the rest of the team come a bit closer. Image stops. Sixteen year old boys, stripped of their macho posturing and pride, have never looked more strong and beautiful.
I notice the other team, a big rival of our team from another city, is standing quietly and respectfully. Some look worried. Others look a bit scared. They look awkward like they would like to help but don't know what to do. I realize, at this moment, that both teams understand a great truth. The game is not important. The game has, for a while, become irrelevant. Coaches from both teams are running around, doing damage control, making sure that their boys are okay. Image stops. My son later receives cards from opposing team members and their parents. They find him on Facebook and send messages of encouragement. They challenge him to get better soon so they can play against him again. Sixteen year old boys, who don't even personally know my son, comfort my son in ways I can never match.
Suddenly, I think of my eleven year old daughter who is somewhere in the crowd and must be very frightened. I look up to see one of the moms from the team holding her hand. I am relieved. But then I see two of the boys from the team run over and take her by the hand to stand with the team. Image stops. They block her view of my son. They talk with her. I hear later that they make her an honorary team member and pray with her. Sixteen year old boys stand in the gap for their friend's parents and comfort his sister.
A day in the E.R. with lots of tests and painful procedures. I receive a text that the team manager is in the E.R. waiting room. I go out to talk with him and get some air. The waiting room is filled with players and friends, all wanting to know how my son is. All Saturday plans cancelled, they are standing vigil in the waiting room for news of his condition. They bring silly gifts and food--anything they can think of to cheer him. They take turns, two at a time, visiting with him for a few minutes. They make silly jokes and talk to my son even though he is not able to converse very well. I see their desire to make him smile, to distract him for a while. It works. Image stops. Sixteen year old boys and girls knowing what he needs and selflessly giving of themselves.
Surgery is still a blur. Blindly responding to texts from parents and kids alike. I recall a text from the team manager asking me if I want him to text the team and to tell them to stay away from the hospital for my son to rest. I refuse the request. They need to see that he is okay. They need to do something, anything, to help. Friends and teammates visit throughout the afternoon and evening, talking to each other over my son's bed. He is in and out of consciousness, but I see that he enjoys the banter and being surrounded by friends. Image stops. Sixteen year olds hanging out in a hospital room on a sunny Sunday afternoon, just to be there for a friend.
As a week and a half goes by, I see streams of kids visiting my son at home, just hanging out and talking about normal things. Encouraging him with talk of the spring high school soccer season. I see visitors bringing homework assignments and copies of notes (usually with funny comments in the margins to cheer my son) and volunteering assistance with his transition back to school. They bring gifts to make him laugh; a fake severed foot, stuffed baby toys, five pound bags of Skittles. They talk of normalcy-- a gift that his father and I cant give him. They plan a movie night at our house and bring their own snacks because they know i havent been to the supermarket. Image stops. These same sixteen year old boys (and girls) volunteer to carry his books and give him rides to school events.
My husband I have most certainly found out who our friends are throughout this ordeal. Visits, cards, meals, calls, offers of prayer, shoulders to cry on, ears to listen and much more. We feel truly blessed. However, the most valuable thing that we have discovered is who our son's friends are. Sixteen year olds that usually get blamed for all that is wrong in the world. Sixteen year old boys who are widely purported to be selfish, egotistical, uncaring and full of machismo. Sixteen year old boys who put a friend ahead of themselves and their needs. Sixteen year old boys who behaved better than many men in the face of such an event. Sixteen year old boys.
One of the questions that my son has asked during the early days of this injury is "Why me?" It is a typical response when hard times come. "Why didnt God protect me?" My son has been given a great gift. He has been given the opportunity to really KNOW his friends. He has had the opportunity to see his friends pouring out love and compassion on him and his family. I believe that, through this injury, God has given my son a window through which he can see Mankind at it's finest. While I don't imagine he is quite to the point of thanking God for this wonderful gift, I do believe that he was surprised and pleased to know that his friends had such compassion and real concern for him. I believe that he, too, will carry with him images of this event. I believe that he is, and will be, a better man and a better friend. You do find out who your real friends are, and sometimes they come in the form of (gasp!) sixteen year old boys!
Two weeks ago, my sixteen year old son had a horrific accident on the soccer field. He dislocated his ankle and foot, broke his ankle and leg bone, and tore ligaments in his foot. This happened during a game against a team from out of town. The injury was extremely awful to see. With leg pointing north and south while the foot was pointing east and west (and down), it was very ugly and extremely painful for my son. The game was stopped, an ambulance called and the waiting began. We are fortunate to have an orthopedic surgeon dad on the team who is a dear friend as well. He was able to take charge and do all of the "right" things so my husband and I only had to worry about comforting him and holding ourselves together! It is funny how things like this are remembered in a slow motion fog of images. Snapshots of memories with no real continuity. A protective function of the brain? Probably. Godly comfort for the days ahead? Definitely.
The first thing that I remember after comforting my son on the ground for what seemed like hours (but was only a few minutes I am sure) is looking over at his teammates. They all have haunted, frightened looks on their faces--my first thought was that they looked like orphans who had been dropped off in an unfamiliar place. Lost. Several have tears on their faces. When I stand up to catch my breath and "regroup" my deteriorating composure, one of the guys from the team comes over and gives me a big bear hug. He tells me that the team has prayed for me and for my son. He tells me he loves me and my family. Two other guys hug me and the rest of the team come a bit closer. Image stops. Sixteen year old boys, stripped of their macho posturing and pride, have never looked more strong and beautiful.
I notice the other team, a big rival of our team from another city, is standing quietly and respectfully. Some look worried. Others look a bit scared. They look awkward like they would like to help but don't know what to do. I realize, at this moment, that both teams understand a great truth. The game is not important. The game has, for a while, become irrelevant. Coaches from both teams are running around, doing damage control, making sure that their boys are okay. Image stops. My son later receives cards from opposing team members and their parents. They find him on Facebook and send messages of encouragement. They challenge him to get better soon so they can play against him again. Sixteen year old boys, who don't even personally know my son, comfort my son in ways I can never match.
Suddenly, I think of my eleven year old daughter who is somewhere in the crowd and must be very frightened. I look up to see one of the moms from the team holding her hand. I am relieved. But then I see two of the boys from the team run over and take her by the hand to stand with the team. Image stops. They block her view of my son. They talk with her. I hear later that they make her an honorary team member and pray with her. Sixteen year old boys stand in the gap for their friend's parents and comfort his sister.
A day in the E.R. with lots of tests and painful procedures. I receive a text that the team manager is in the E.R. waiting room. I go out to talk with him and get some air. The waiting room is filled with players and friends, all wanting to know how my son is. All Saturday plans cancelled, they are standing vigil in the waiting room for news of his condition. They bring silly gifts and food--anything they can think of to cheer him. They take turns, two at a time, visiting with him for a few minutes. They make silly jokes and talk to my son even though he is not able to converse very well. I see their desire to make him smile, to distract him for a while. It works. Image stops. Sixteen year old boys and girls knowing what he needs and selflessly giving of themselves.
Surgery is still a blur. Blindly responding to texts from parents and kids alike. I recall a text from the team manager asking me if I want him to text the team and to tell them to stay away from the hospital for my son to rest. I refuse the request. They need to see that he is okay. They need to do something, anything, to help. Friends and teammates visit throughout the afternoon and evening, talking to each other over my son's bed. He is in and out of consciousness, but I see that he enjoys the banter and being surrounded by friends. Image stops. Sixteen year olds hanging out in a hospital room on a sunny Sunday afternoon, just to be there for a friend.
As a week and a half goes by, I see streams of kids visiting my son at home, just hanging out and talking about normal things. Encouraging him with talk of the spring high school soccer season. I see visitors bringing homework assignments and copies of notes (usually with funny comments in the margins to cheer my son) and volunteering assistance with his transition back to school. They bring gifts to make him laugh; a fake severed foot, stuffed baby toys, five pound bags of Skittles. They talk of normalcy-- a gift that his father and I cant give him. They plan a movie night at our house and bring their own snacks because they know i havent been to the supermarket. Image stops. These same sixteen year old boys (and girls) volunteer to carry his books and give him rides to school events.
My husband I have most certainly found out who our friends are throughout this ordeal. Visits, cards, meals, calls, offers of prayer, shoulders to cry on, ears to listen and much more. We feel truly blessed. However, the most valuable thing that we have discovered is who our son's friends are. Sixteen year olds that usually get blamed for all that is wrong in the world. Sixteen year old boys who are widely purported to be selfish, egotistical, uncaring and full of machismo. Sixteen year old boys who put a friend ahead of themselves and their needs. Sixteen year old boys who behaved better than many men in the face of such an event. Sixteen year old boys.
One of the questions that my son has asked during the early days of this injury is "Why me?" It is a typical response when hard times come. "Why didnt God protect me?" My son has been given a great gift. He has been given the opportunity to really KNOW his friends. He has had the opportunity to see his friends pouring out love and compassion on him and his family. I believe that, through this injury, God has given my son a window through which he can see Mankind at it's finest. While I don't imagine he is quite to the point of thanking God for this wonderful gift, I do believe that he was surprised and pleased to know that his friends had such compassion and real concern for him. I believe that he, too, will carry with him images of this event. I believe that he is, and will be, a better man and a better friend. You do find out who your real friends are, and sometimes they come in the form of (gasp!) sixteen year old boys!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Demitri Martin is A Genius
Because I have been reading twenty pound Ken Follet novels and some pretty grim biographies lately, I was searching for a lighter book that would make me laugh. When I say I want a book that makes me laugh, I don't really mean I plan to laugh out loud. In fact, I find it rather annoying when you are sitting by someone who is reading and they actually laugh out loud. It is almost like not being in on a private joke. I can honestly say that, other than a text from a witty friend, I have never laughed out loud in public while reading! Until now.
I uploaded the book This Is A Book By Demetri Martin. I was planning for a long appointment at the hair salon the next day and couldn't bear the thought of looking at hairstyle books or People magazines for three hours. I was looking forward to a good distraction from the sights, sounds and smells of the salon. I don't care to chit chat with strangers on why they would like to go lighter, curlier, shorter, longer or get a divorce. While I have always considered myself a "people person", I guess I am not a "salon people person". I am not offended that you don't care that I need more texture on the top so that my hair doesn't go flat in the afternoon. I just don't want to act interested in why your last extensions didn't last as long as promised either!
Anyway, once I was ready for the "sit here for twenty minutes. can i get you a magazine" phase, I pulled out my Nook and opened to the title page. The title page of the book says "This is A Book By Demetri Martin... This Is A Book By Demetri Martin." This is also a clue as to what is to come. If the title page of the book (By Demetri Martin) doesn't make you laugh, put it back on the shelf and walk away. However, I was personally glad that I hadn't taken a drink of my complimentary bottled water as I read that or I would have done a very "un-salon-ish" spit take! I did kind of do a short cackle and then quickly covered it with a cough. I was hooked.
If you are not familiar with the comedy of Demetri Martin, I am not sure I could explain his sort of humor, but it must be mine. It is certainly not for everyone. It is almost like trying to describe the flavor of chicken flavored ice cream. I have never personally had, nor have I heard of chicken flavored ice cream. I am sure it would probably be awful, but IF I had tasted chicken flavored ice cream, I would imagine that it would be hard to describe. "It is cold, but chicken-ish, kind of like... no not like soup because that is hot, kind of like...no not like raspberry sorbet, because that isn't like chicken.." See my point? Probably not, but I will continue.
Demetri Martin is a bit like Mitch Hedberg, with word play and puns at the front. However, where Mitch's work was based on quick one liners that required a second of thought to "get", Demetri is perfectly comfortable couching a whole bushel of these thoughts into a running commentary---or not. His stage show includes a big drawing pad where he is happy to draw his one liners rather than speak them. Throw in a guitar and sing them or simply accompany his one liners with some background music. Demetri is a comedy stew. But he is a thinking man's comedy stew. Don't judge me, I TOLD you he was hard to describe!
I wondered if his humor could translate into book form. There are many stand-up comedians whose material would flop in print. It is not a given that because a guy is funny on stage, he will be funny in a book. First, part of most comedians' "funny factor" is in the delivery. This is a given. Ever had a friend who could simply NOT TELL A JOKE! Facial expression, timing and overall presentation of a joke is so important! Second, many comedians have a political slant and choose to use their only chance to write a book as their political forum. Third, some material is not funny in print no matter what! So I knew I was taking a chance buying Mr. Martin's book. I couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised. (Like the pleasant feeling I would have if I actually LIKED chicken flavored ice cream when I tried it!)
I will go so far as to say that Martin's humor is almost more effective in book form because you can stop laughing at one part before going on to the next. The book is a mixture of daily observations and "what if" scenarios. I am convinced that Demetri Martin's mind works on a higher level than most human beings. It seems a shame to "waste" his great intellect on humor when he probably should be curing some disease or attending a World Peace summit. For example; who in the world would be reading A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, and come up with a fourth ghost that visits Ebenezer Scrooge? You already have the Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present and the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. In Mr. Martin's mind, he conjures up the Ghost of Christmas Future Perfect. This is the ghost that visits and promises to tell Ebenezer "what shall have happened to you on a Christmas that will have passed at some point in the future". Hysterical bit but whose mind works that way??
He has a chapter on fortune cookie fortunes - " If you were tiny, this could be a banner". He has a couple of chapters of simple musings - "The boomerang is Australia's chief export (then import)" He has an essay on an attack by a bee from the perspective of the bee, the person, the chair they were sitting on, and the magazine used to swat the bee. He also includes many of his drawings, which are beyond clever.
Wow, this is sounding like a book review. It was not meant to be a book review, but rather a story about the day I laughed out loud at a salon. I guess the book review is better reading!
While this is not a book review, I do recommend This is A Book by Demetri Martin. But do me a favor. Read the darned thing in the privacy of your own home. And do your family members a favor. Don't constantly say "Oh oh oh, let me read you this ONE MORE THING..." They laugh at first but then, for some reason, they just get irritated. Just loan them your book when you finish and when they try to read you something, just look at them like "Duh! I READ the book myself ALREADY!" And when they sit in the living room and start laughing out loud, go make them a bowl of ice cream, you pick the flavor!
I uploaded the book This Is A Book By Demetri Martin. I was planning for a long appointment at the hair salon the next day and couldn't bear the thought of looking at hairstyle books or People magazines for three hours. I was looking forward to a good distraction from the sights, sounds and smells of the salon. I don't care to chit chat with strangers on why they would like to go lighter, curlier, shorter, longer or get a divorce. While I have always considered myself a "people person", I guess I am not a "salon people person". I am not offended that you don't care that I need more texture on the top so that my hair doesn't go flat in the afternoon. I just don't want to act interested in why your last extensions didn't last as long as promised either!
Anyway, once I was ready for the "sit here for twenty minutes. can i get you a magazine" phase, I pulled out my Nook and opened to the title page. The title page of the book says "This is A Book By Demetri Martin... This Is A Book By Demetri Martin." This is also a clue as to what is to come. If the title page of the book (By Demetri Martin) doesn't make you laugh, put it back on the shelf and walk away. However, I was personally glad that I hadn't taken a drink of my complimentary bottled water as I read that or I would have done a very "un-salon-ish" spit take! I did kind of do a short cackle and then quickly covered it with a cough. I was hooked.
If you are not familiar with the comedy of Demetri Martin, I am not sure I could explain his sort of humor, but it must be mine. It is certainly not for everyone. It is almost like trying to describe the flavor of chicken flavored ice cream. I have never personally had, nor have I heard of chicken flavored ice cream. I am sure it would probably be awful, but IF I had tasted chicken flavored ice cream, I would imagine that it would be hard to describe. "It is cold, but chicken-ish, kind of like... no not like soup because that is hot, kind of like...no not like raspberry sorbet, because that isn't like chicken.." See my point? Probably not, but I will continue.
Demetri Martin is a bit like Mitch Hedberg, with word play and puns at the front. However, where Mitch's work was based on quick one liners that required a second of thought to "get", Demetri is perfectly comfortable couching a whole bushel of these thoughts into a running commentary---or not. His stage show includes a big drawing pad where he is happy to draw his one liners rather than speak them. Throw in a guitar and sing them or simply accompany his one liners with some background music. Demetri is a comedy stew. But he is a thinking man's comedy stew. Don't judge me, I TOLD you he was hard to describe!
I wondered if his humor could translate into book form. There are many stand-up comedians whose material would flop in print. It is not a given that because a guy is funny on stage, he will be funny in a book. First, part of most comedians' "funny factor" is in the delivery. This is a given. Ever had a friend who could simply NOT TELL A JOKE! Facial expression, timing and overall presentation of a joke is so important! Second, many comedians have a political slant and choose to use their only chance to write a book as their political forum. Third, some material is not funny in print no matter what! So I knew I was taking a chance buying Mr. Martin's book. I couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised. (Like the pleasant feeling I would have if I actually LIKED chicken flavored ice cream when I tried it!)
I will go so far as to say that Martin's humor is almost more effective in book form because you can stop laughing at one part before going on to the next. The book is a mixture of daily observations and "what if" scenarios. I am convinced that Demetri Martin's mind works on a higher level than most human beings. It seems a shame to "waste" his great intellect on humor when he probably should be curing some disease or attending a World Peace summit. For example; who in the world would be reading A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, and come up with a fourth ghost that visits Ebenezer Scrooge? You already have the Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present and the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. In Mr. Martin's mind, he conjures up the Ghost of Christmas Future Perfect. This is the ghost that visits and promises to tell Ebenezer "what shall have happened to you on a Christmas that will have passed at some point in the future". Hysterical bit but whose mind works that way??
He has a chapter on fortune cookie fortunes - " If you were tiny, this could be a banner". He has a couple of chapters of simple musings - "The boomerang is Australia's chief export (then import)" He has an essay on an attack by a bee from the perspective of the bee, the person, the chair they were sitting on, and the magazine used to swat the bee. He also includes many of his drawings, which are beyond clever.
Wow, this is sounding like a book review. It was not meant to be a book review, but rather a story about the day I laughed out loud at a salon. I guess the book review is better reading!
While this is not a book review, I do recommend This is A Book by Demetri Martin. But do me a favor. Read the darned thing in the privacy of your own home. And do your family members a favor. Don't constantly say "Oh oh oh, let me read you this ONE MORE THING..." They laugh at first but then, for some reason, they just get irritated. Just loan them your book when you finish and when they try to read you something, just look at them like "Duh! I READ the book myself ALREADY!" And when they sit in the living room and start laughing out loud, go make them a bowl of ice cream, you pick the flavor!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Am I Too Old For Twitter?
Because of my participation in an opinion poll group, I was asked to create a Twitter account. In return, I received extra "points" in their reward program so I wasnt about to turn it down! I signed on for a Twitter account. I never really intended to use the account but I do admit to being curious about all things online so I decided to try to see how it worked and determine if Twitter was for me or not. I like to think of myself as a reasonably intelligent adult. Facebook was a day in the park. Creating my blog was also an easy task. I spent an evening last night trying to figure out the whole language of Twitter-speak. I admit it. I was stumped! I would really like to know why something as simple as Twitter is so difficult for me to grasp! And I am not willing to give it up until I master it! Or at least until I obtain all of my polling points!
There are a myriad of Twitter tutorials, written by clever bloggers and I intend to find the best of them and dig in. However, it really bothers me that I NEED these tutorials. Bitrebels.com did a fantastic piece entitled "The Four Stages of Understanding Twitter" with a really awesome graphic showing the levels of Twitter understanding. http://www.bitrebels.com/social/the-4-stages-of-understanding-twitter-infographic/
I am approaching "level 2", which, in their words, is "consistently attempting to enjoy Twitter". This is a great post if you are wondering how close you are to Twitter mastery. I love how they didnt make it a gradual hill of understanding, but rather made it look like a Matterhorn expedition! I love it, not for how funny the graphic is, but how much better it made me feel. The article begins by stating how easy it is to "get" Twitter. But the graphic is drawn to help people, like me, feel better about our difficulty!
There are several obstacles that prevent me from jumping into the Twitter flock with both wings. First, it is that darned @ symbol. @ signifies a place, not a person, in my brain! I am lesliebham@gmail.com. I am not @leslie_bham. Hey, I dont think I even knew until the early 1990's, when I got my first email address, that @ meant "at". Now I cant reason with my brain to make it mean "to". All you have to do is give me a fairly easy algebra problem and you will see that symbols, numbers and letters that stand for other things, is a difficult obstacle. Now, throw in the # and I am really stumped! What in the heck does # mean? I thought it signified a number or weight. I still dont know what that symbol means in the Twitterverse.
Another area of disconnect, is the idea of "following" someone. I didnt have any friends on Twitter that I knew of, so I decided to "follow" some celebrities that I find interesting. Evidently, following someone means that you will get their "tweets". All of them. Every single solitary one. Level 2 on Bitrebels.com's post says "Consistently attempting to enjoy being on Twitter by doing what they are used to doing; rambling aimlessly about the weather, lunch, and favorite quotes". I just cant do it. I cannot pretend that anyone would care what I had for lunch or that I was driving to the grocery. In fact, I can say, with total honesty, that I dont care what the celebrities that I follow had for lunch either (Except for the celebrity chefs that I follow- and they are far too busy to tweet their lunch). I am also feeling a little rediculous tweeting anything because I have no followers.
The one area that I "get" is the retweet. Someone posts something interesting and you find it interesting enough to share with your followers. I have retweeted a few posts from some of the people I follow ---pretty much just to figure out what happens when you retweet. I am not sure what happens as I have no followers.
This is kind of like reading a funny passage from a book you are reading --to your dog or a lamp. What is the point? But at least I understand what the purpose WOULD be if I had followers.
I guess my biggest confusion about Twitter is the "WHY" of Twitter. Why would anyone care where I was going and what I was doing throughout the day? What release do Twitter users get by tweeting their opinions or preferences? Perhaps my life isnt interesting enough for a Twitter account. Maybe I am not curious enough about others' lives to participate in the Twitterverse. I am a caring and compassionate person but your roast beef sandwich and chips neither interests nor inspires me. My tuna salad will not change your world.
I wonder if one day, by continuing to participate in Twitter, I will wake one morning and "get it". The "Ah-ha" moment. Or has the Twitter ship sailed for me? Am I just too out of touch to understand-- not only the mechanics of Twitter, but the purpose of Twitter? Does that make me my mom, back in 1980, saying "Why dont those handsome boys in that rock band just cut their hair? They would be so handsome if their hair was neater!" It is this question, alone, that drives me to figure out Twitter. Then, once mastered, I can keep it in my life as a wonderful social media source or I can dump it as irrelevant. I just have to prove that I can "get" it! You can call me "stupid" but dont you dare call me "lame"!
There are a myriad of Twitter tutorials, written by clever bloggers and I intend to find the best of them and dig in. However, it really bothers me that I NEED these tutorials. Bitrebels.com did a fantastic piece entitled "The Four Stages of Understanding Twitter" with a really awesome graphic showing the levels of Twitter understanding. http://www.bitrebels.com/social/the-4-stages-of-understanding-twitter-infographic/
I am approaching "level 2", which, in their words, is "consistently attempting to enjoy Twitter". This is a great post if you are wondering how close you are to Twitter mastery. I love how they didnt make it a gradual hill of understanding, but rather made it look like a Matterhorn expedition! I love it, not for how funny the graphic is, but how much better it made me feel. The article begins by stating how easy it is to "get" Twitter. But the graphic is drawn to help people, like me, feel better about our difficulty!
There are several obstacles that prevent me from jumping into the Twitter flock with both wings. First, it is that darned @ symbol. @ signifies a place, not a person, in my brain! I am lesliebham@gmail.com. I am not @leslie_bham. Hey, I dont think I even knew until the early 1990's, when I got my first email address, that @ meant "at". Now I cant reason with my brain to make it mean "to". All you have to do is give me a fairly easy algebra problem and you will see that symbols, numbers and letters that stand for other things, is a difficult obstacle. Now, throw in the # and I am really stumped! What in the heck does # mean? I thought it signified a number or weight. I still dont know what that symbol means in the Twitterverse.
Another area of disconnect, is the idea of "following" someone. I didnt have any friends on Twitter that I knew of, so I decided to "follow" some celebrities that I find interesting. Evidently, following someone means that you will get their "tweets". All of them. Every single solitary one. Level 2 on Bitrebels.com's post says "Consistently attempting to enjoy being on Twitter by doing what they are used to doing; rambling aimlessly about the weather, lunch, and favorite quotes". I just cant do it. I cannot pretend that anyone would care what I had for lunch or that I was driving to the grocery. In fact, I can say, with total honesty, that I dont care what the celebrities that I follow had for lunch either (Except for the celebrity chefs that I follow- and they are far too busy to tweet their lunch). I am also feeling a little rediculous tweeting anything because I have no followers.
The one area that I "get" is the retweet. Someone posts something interesting and you find it interesting enough to share with your followers. I have retweeted a few posts from some of the people I follow ---pretty much just to figure out what happens when you retweet. I am not sure what happens as I have no followers.
This is kind of like reading a funny passage from a book you are reading --to your dog or a lamp. What is the point? But at least I understand what the purpose WOULD be if I had followers.
I guess my biggest confusion about Twitter is the "WHY" of Twitter. Why would anyone care where I was going and what I was doing throughout the day? What release do Twitter users get by tweeting their opinions or preferences? Perhaps my life isnt interesting enough for a Twitter account. Maybe I am not curious enough about others' lives to participate in the Twitterverse. I am a caring and compassionate person but your roast beef sandwich and chips neither interests nor inspires me. My tuna salad will not change your world.
I wonder if one day, by continuing to participate in Twitter, I will wake one morning and "get it". The "Ah-ha" moment. Or has the Twitter ship sailed for me? Am I just too out of touch to understand-- not only the mechanics of Twitter, but the purpose of Twitter? Does that make me my mom, back in 1980, saying "Why dont those handsome boys in that rock band just cut their hair? They would be so handsome if their hair was neater!" It is this question, alone, that drives me to figure out Twitter. Then, once mastered, I can keep it in my life as a wonderful social media source or I can dump it as irrelevant. I just have to prove that I can "get" it! You can call me "stupid" but dont you dare call me "lame"!
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