it's all about the food

a note actually sent to my sister a few days ago...posting it here to give you insight into how my brain functions. and also to serve as grocery list/memory, since this blog is where i keep my memory.

and here is the mail in its entirety (with capital letters stripped for the blog and slight edits for the sake of humor):

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anyway, I was pondering our menu for the cabin.

we should try one of those local dive burger joints the night we get there.

december 24:

breakfast: if we're going skiing, something quick - i saw a yummy-looking overnight french toast bake thing that someone posted on FB, making it the night before means we pop it in the oven, eat and run. At the speed of panicked turtles.

dinner:
- oyster stew
- nice sandwiches with good bread (that asiago bread you mentioned sounds good, but we can also make bread - we will need posh cold cuts/nice (read: not iceberg) lettuce, tomato, aioli, fixins to go with them)
- risengrød (i have already bought rice, which i'll bring along) with cinnamon sugar and butter for the nisse and oyster-stew haters and to have something danish for the child and her far.
- snacks to graze upon: bacon-wrapped dates, veggies/dip, possibly some nice fruit sliced up.
- potato leek soup
- croutons/oyster crackers
- wine, port, cocktail fixins

- hot chocolate, hot toddies and christmas cookies/candy - we can set the kids to making candy/cookies, child labor is underrated today


december 25:

breakfast:
- you are the waffle queen, so I place you in charge of this, but we need bacon and syrup and possibly some kind of fruit compote and whipped cream to accompany our waffles.
- also, mimosas, because it's obvious that we need to start drinking early. i can be in charge of the compote.

dinner:
- beef wellington
- green bean casserole
- hasselbagt potatoes or flødekartofler
- a christmasy salad (think citrus fruit, red cabbage, pomegranate and black currant vinegar)
- kale? spinach? you can never have too much of either of those
- sauce (husband is in charge, because it will help him over/provoke his PTSD over the first thanksgiving he came to the states and was placed in charge of the gravy)
- dessert? cranberry tart with white chocolate (see pinterest)
- risalamande (husband wants this traditional danish christmas dessert and I'm sure S will too)
- nigella's log-looking roulade (see above)

- wine, port, cocktail fixins

snacks: chex mix, more bacon-wrapped dates (you can never have too many), olives, cheese, veggies, dip (there will be whining if we don't have snacks)

december 26:

breakfast: ? (i'm on strike.)

packed lunch: big loaf of bread that we hollow out and stuff all of the leftovers into, then slice into slices to be eaten at lunchtime.

that's what i've got...

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what will you eat at christmas?

christmas is coming

christmas is coming. and we'll spend it in the states for the first time in a decade. hard to believe it's been that long. our bags are nearly packed and the laundry is nearly done. dinners are made from what's left in the refrigerator. i'm looking very much forward to seeing the child and i think she can't wait to see us. we've found a beautiful place to spend christmas and i'm hoping we will make good memories there. loads of good food, wine, games, skiing and fun are on the agenda. i go with an open heart, together with the person who loves and supports me most in the whole world. and i am hoping for good times and laughter. and making memories that will sustain us in the years ahead. 

* * *

an interesting take on helping ease the pain of alzheimer's

which is all-too-painfully of interest to me these days.

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need a new podcast?
you can also find one here. or here.

there's only one first time

when i was in paris a few weeks ago, i was thinking about how you only get one first time experience of anything. it was quite remarkable, as i walked down a wide boulevard in montparnasse, to look up and see the eiffel tower glowing ahead of me (this photo above is when i got a bit closer). i had a little moment of thrill, thinking consciously, "this is my very first look at the eiffel tower." despite being late in november, it was a balmy, autumnal evening and i just kept walking towards the tower as it shone brightly above the city. finally, my feet were tired and i was hungry, so i popped into a restaurant for oysters and foie gras and a glass of sancerre. it felt suitably parisian and worthy of a first paris experience.

i had a similar moment of conscious thrill as i looked out over the cranes of what's now called remontova shipyard in gdansk, but which were surely once the cranes that the members of the solidarity movement operated as they helped bring down the iron curtain. the peaceful morning, the dusting of snow, and the cold, crisp air, filled with the musical clangs of a busy shipyard.

and at that same shipyard in poland, i stood underneath a ship for the first time. i'd been at yards before, but never down in the dock, underneath the ship itself. it happened again later in the summer in bremerhaven, but it didn't quite match the awe of that first time, standing underneath pearl in gdansk.

i'm not sure if i even know why or how the white cliffs of dover have the mystique they have, but they do. the town of dover isn't much, but the cliffs are spectacular. i saw them twice this year and they were a bit more glorious in august sunshine than they were in april, but there is still only one first time.

i went to brussels about a month after the bombing of brussels airport. the square was still filled with these tributes and i was quite overwhelming, standing there, looking at all that evidence of love and sorrow both. not a moment i will likely repeat.

so many first visits this year. gothenburg in sweden was new for me. i strolled around the port area on the gorgeous summer evening when i arrived, eventually going back to the hotel for dinner, which isn't something i normally like to do, but this was an exceptional meal. i think it was not only the delicate light flavor of perfectly cooked, lemony sole, but it was also the midsummer light. they combined to make it a memorable first experience.

i spent quite a lot of time at a shipyard in bremerhaven. we ate ate at every restaurant along the old riverfront, eventually concluding that they all shared the same kitchen. but balmy summer nights and the beauty of all those cranes, made for an experience that undoubtedly will not be duplicated.

i'd been in klaipeda before, but it felt very changed. and i'd never seen vilnius or kaunas. the weather was spectacular. i would love to go back, restore this old waterfront warehouse, opening something wonderful...restaurant, b&b, creative workspace for artists. we'd just have to leave those braces in place, because i'm fairly certain they're holding it all together.

the lovely, winding streets of tallinn old town were a first. i want to paint something that color blue. i fear a bit that my first impression of tallinn was tainted by all that i'd heard of it before i went (funny how that hadn't happened with paris), and i somehow felt a little let down. i think it's because all of the shops felt like they were filled with the same things and i had thought it would be this magical place, full of unique artisanal items. but alas, the same linen and wrought iron and knitted woolens filled every shop. the food was great and the winding streets charming.

a sunset on board a ship in the north sea. that was a first. and the best night's sleep i had all year. that's an experience i'd very much like to try again. but alas, you can only have one first time.

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i forgot to tell you about totally lost. 

check out my albanian bunkers, but do stay and poke around a bit.

happy would-have-been-83rd birthday, dad

my dad would have been 83 today if he hadn't left us a little over two years ago. there's still a big ralph-sized hole in our lives. i would love to have talked to him about the recent election. i would love for him to be there for the child to get to know better as she spends what seems to be a rocky year in a poisoned trump-infested atmosphere in my little hometown. i would like to discuss the changing seasons in the garden with him. and i would like to consult him about the road we are facing ahead with mom. i feel a little bit abandoned by him, if i'm honest. and i kind of would like to yell at him about that.

he would be glad mom sold her horses and has gotten rid of all those cats. but he wouldn't be happy about the signs of her decline and they probably started even before he was gone. and i suppose there's nothing he could do about it, any more than than there's anything we can do about it, aside from watch it happen.

i'd like to think he would approve of the solution we've arrived at for christmas - renting a cabin (that's really more of a huge house) in the black hills, to gather together, no internet, and try to have a last, good christmas together. one with plenty of good food, games and laughter. hopefully also some sledding and snowboarding and skiing. and plenty of cocktails and wine. i suspect we're going to need the cocktails and wine.

and speaking of cocktails, here's to dad's birthday. we miss you, dad, more than we can say.

as long as someone remembers

i'm reading orhan pamuk's museum of innocence, which is one long pondering as to whether objects can house memory and feelings. in the book füsun says "when we lose people we love, we should never disturb their souls, whether living or dead. instead, we should find consolation in an object that reminds you of them..." my visit to the flea market on saturday rendered a new little collection of objects which feel somehow laden with more or less inaccessible memories, reminders of stories not my own. and yet, i am still drawn to these things.

this old typewriter was there the last time i went to the market, so you might say we already have a history together, or at least that we'd met before. i didn't intend to buy it, but as i was leaving, the guy said 100 kroner and so i went for it. mostly because it still had a little poem in it that must be the last thing that was typed with it.

it's a sweet little poem about a little frog by chief doctor morten scheibel from the hospital in viborg. somehow, such a remnant there in the carriage of the typewriter does give a little bit of access to the stories and the memories it silently holds.

he experimented with the lines...using no spaces initially, then reverting to normal spacing. there's even a word he struck out and changed, offering glimpses of his creative process, left behind in the typewriter. tho' there was a more fetching typewriter there at another stand (and another price), this little poem made this one more appealing.

this camera may have similar secrets to tell, as there's a film still in it and it's on photo #14. it'll need a new battery before i can find out what memories it holds within. and discovering the battery thing makes me think that the other practica i got at a flea market a month or so ago might be ok after all if i just replace the battery.

stoneware plates and bowls keep their secrets more closely guarded. the azur nissen denmark plate is crazed and has a hairline crack, belying tales of long and not always gentle use. i loved the color and the amusing chat i had with the rather crotchety woman who sold it, so already i have laid a thin layer of my own memories onto it. the little bowl is a bit more silent, speaking only through the HAK initials on the bottom, as being a descendent of a long tradition of pottery-making in denmark. i loved the soft colors and the shape and size of it.

this little flat bowl/tray is HAK as well. the simple flower motif reminds me of the flower people sabin drew when she was little, so already i begin to layer my own meaning onto the object. it makes me a little bit sad to think that it found its way to the flea market. it must have once been a present to someone, thoughtfully given and once that person was gone and the story with it, it was packed up and sent off to the flea market. objects only retain their meaning as long as someone remembers.

it takes two

we attended the wedding of a good friend of mine this weekend. we used to work together and i used to say that she was the keeper of my brain, or at least my memory and on more than one occasion, my sanity (i should note that the times when it didn't work are entirely my own and not at all her fault).  it was so great to be there to share in the happiness of her day.

it was a gorgeous weekend and she and her new husband looked so relaxed and happy amidst their friends and family. the church was lovely and filled with lilacs and people who were happy for them and children who plugged their ears when the organ played (what is up with organs? they're a terrible instrument). everyone gathered after the ceremony in her parents' beautiful, wide front yard for champagne from her father's own vineyard (in denmark, yes, it's true - and it was good!). then on to a dinner and party that lasted 'til the wee hours of the night. it was truly a stunning beginning to what i am sure will be a long and happy life together.

we stayed with her parents' neighbors, as we were a bit slow (what, me, procrastinate? really?) to book the pension they had reserved and all the rooms were gone by the time we decided we needed one. that turned out to be quite ok, because her parents' neighbors were a couple that knew husband when he was a child growing up in the heart of copenhagen. we had a leisurely breakfast with them in the sunshine before we left, reminiscing over the old times and the people husband knew when he was growing up. it is a small world after all.

but it got even smaller, as it turned out that the groom's parents had worked closely with my father-in-law on his technolution drawings - helping him with the latin names of all of them. husband and i had some nearly-tearful moments talking to the groom's mother about him. it's been more than five years since he died, but we do still miss him. it was very nice to meet someone who had known him and worked closely with him too. it made us both happy and sad at the same time and sometimes those are the best kind of emotions because they're so keenly felt. you feel alive at moments like that, when you are truly feeling something, even if it does make you feel a bit sorrowful.

a little bit weird to run into such connections from BOTH sides of husband's family (his parents split when he was 5) at a wedding where our connection to being there was actually through me, the girl from the other side of the world.

and it makes me think, once again, that we were undoubtedly meant to be. and tho' i shudder at times to think of the chain of events that had to be as it was for us to meet and how easily they could have gone another way, perhaps it's times like this that should make me realize we really were meant to be together. these things can't be coincidence, can they? there must be strong connections binding us - and we would probably have found our way to one another no matter what.

and now, our long weekend is winding to a close. a new week awaits. with new projects and new challenges ahead. but these experiences (and a lot of sunshine) leave us fortified and ready to face it head-on. but first, a bit of rest.

* most of the photos above were taken by sabin.

the golden hours

yesterday, late in the day, i acutely felt all of the holiday togetherness wearing thin. 

it happens every year. 

the merriment gets in the way of the daily writing and time to think. 

in the way of the solitude.

and it wears on my nerves. 

but the feeling passes.

cards are played.

cookies baked,

popcorn popped,

old movies watched.

and there's even a bit of time to curl up with a book.

and to remember that those are the things memories are made of. 

and there will always be time to think and to write when the being together is done.