The Lost Years.

After graduating from college in 1999 I spent two years in Phoenix, Arizona where I learned, truly, what a downward spiral is.  No matter how good your circumstances are in the beginning, and how much control you think you have, that one slip into the spiral takes everything under.

I call those the lost years.

__________


Me:  "Anywhere but Texas.  If it's Texas I'm staying here."

Him:  "It's Texas."

Me:  (pause)  "Well, at least it's not El Paso."


Due to my unhealthy trait of bearing unrealistic expectations (which I promise to explain eventually) I really thought it was possible for central Texas to be not completely horrible, even livable.  I was still employed, though not full-time anymore; The sun always shone and the skies were beautiful, though accompanied by unrelenting heat; Scattered, desolate small towns beckoned to be photographed, though peering and leering eyes of locals kept me away; I put myself out there socially and attended functions, though I still felt pushed towards the wall.

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." - Albert Einstein. 

I gave up.  I am not strong enough to handle such repeat failures.  Once the stress of trying to connect was removed I accepted my situation and lived day-to-day the best I could.  I knew that time would be filed under "Years, lost."  The two Texas years were nothing like my two Phoenix years, which I don't even talk about.  But when thinking back on my time in Texas there were definitely more bad days than good.

[I blame Texas because it's easy.  The real issue is small towns set far from urban areas.  I call myself a city girl even though I've never lived in a downtown setting.  I want transportation options besides a personal vehicle, like walking or public transit.  On that note, I want to walk somewhere with actual sidewalks, where you're not stared at by people driving because you're the only person they've seen walking outside all week and probably assume you're doing so because your car broke down.  So Texas is my scapegoat because it contains the small town I lived in that meets my criteria for "where I don't want to live".]

Most people learn from experience and alter their actions appropriately so as not to repeat them.  What concerns me now is how my Texas experience has changed me; it has, I just don't know how.  This brings my anxiety issues to the surface again with worries of finances, personal growth and social inclusion.  I would like to think that I've learned to let go of worries and take each day as it comes, but to avoid the trap of unrealistic expectations I think I'll just take it a day at a time.

I'm Not Here Right Now.

Wherever you go, there you are.


We are moving again, far, far away.  The process has been long and complicated, very difficult for the anxiety-inclined such as I.  The end result will be worth it; the adventure shall be grand. 

Until we meet again...

My Spiders.

I believe in karma, not quite to a religious extent but I believe in the attraction of similar energies and the balance of positive and negative forces.  Specifics surrounding these ideas have changed as I've grown older but the basic premise has held solid for about twenty years.  Whether those concepts are accurate under the definition of "karma" I am unsure, but it is the term I use and the one most generally fitting for general purpose.


Since moving to Texas my exposure to insects has dramatically increased which has led to greater bug tolerance.  Much of this is due to organic pest control, a practice shared with me by a woman I met through an art guild a while back.  This resulted in keeping house spiders in strategic areas around the house to catch bugs.  In areas I once meticulously vacuumed I now maintain spiders and their webs which I see as bellwethers for what seasonal insects are around and where they are originating.  If I begin to see a problem I have no hesitation bringing out the giant jug of Ortho Home Defense spray and eliminating it.  But I keep the spiders.

My spiders are markedly house spiders who have a home and stay in it.  When I see an obvious outdoor spider indoors I will kill it usually without hesitation.  I will also destroy the egg sacks of my kept spiders, only because I once witnessed the hatching of one and it looked like an epic CGI version of spiders boldly jumping from the sky like soldiers on D-Day.

My favorite spiders are the ones I've had the longest, which include the one under my bedroom window sill and the one under the lower cabinet by the stove in the kitchen.  I have been known to catch stray rolly pollies and carefully roll them into their webs.  There is also one who makes a quiet life in the corner of my office behind the door.  I forget about him but he always seems to have a full web when I do remember to check up on him.  A more recent addition is the one living under the coffee counter ledge above the lid of our kitchen garbage receptacle.  He makes a haphazard web down the length of the bin, catches his prey near the floor, then somehow carries it up to his lair.  I've never actually seen this happen but every morning he seems to have a new treat three feet above the floor and I get my hand caught in the web while brushing the coffee grinder into the trash.

Since practicing this pest control method the number of stray insects in the house has significantly decreased. I don't know if I can solely credit the spiders but I certainly believe them to contribute a large factor.  Now where does karma play into all this?

Yesterday afternoon we had our mandatory insect control spray treatment at our house.  This is the first time we have had to do this and my concern for the spiders' welfare was great.  I asked the guy if it would kill spiders and he said "yes."  I prepared for the inevitable.  So far only one spider has died, unfortunately it was the one by the stove.  I checked on her and didn't see her snuggled up in the corner as usual; I hoped she had retreated further back.  When I checked again later I found her curled up on the floor.  I gently blew on her and saw her legs slowly move -- I knew she was dying.  With sadness and a heartfelt apology I smooshed her under a paper towel.

The other spiders seem to be doing okay so far.  Unfortunately, by this time karma had already kicked in.

While the treatment was occurring I sat outside on the front porch with the kitty in his carrier, my Kindle in one hand a cold Kombucha drink in the other.  My sister called and we chatted for a bit.  During the conversation I felt an itchy burn on the top of my foot and instantly knew something bit me.  I assumed it was an ant, the main reason I do not step foot on the grass in Texas if I can at all help it.  I took an antihistamine and spread some hydrocortisone cream on it.

Overnight the pain and burning woke me up repeatedly and by morning my foot had swelled and my leg was tingly.  I took an antihistamine, a photo and accepted my dose of karma.

The Struggle to Define.

How much is too much?


Life changing events are occurring.  Right now.  In my life.  But how much do I want to share?  If I deemed a  blow-by-blow recital necessary I would be on Facebook.  I've fought that battle and forfeited.

Blogs are numerous and frequently irrelevant to all but those personally known or blood related.  Being subject to someone's blog is a modern-day equivalent to the vacation slide show of past generations -- a test of endurance rather than interest.  However, when you find a blog personally relevant the situation is entirely different.

During the past months, when my life-changing events were further on the horizon, I forged through years of blog posts documenting the very real lives of women who were living through what I believed my future could hold.  The more I knew, the more I could be prepared what possibilities may lie before me.  But then our trajectory would change course and I found other blogs about other women following similar paths.  At times I felt like a virtual voyeur -- though peeping through windows deliberately left open still feels delightfully strange.  Currently uncertainty abounds and I doubt whether there is a single soul who has gone though (let alone blogged about) the confusion that now rules my every day.  Which leads me to wonder...

How much is too much, how much should I share, and how much could I possibly help another lost woman in my shoes?  (Oh, please.  I mustn't bring shoes into this, that is a new stressor altogether.)

When beginning my photo blog I wanted a linear history of what I've seen; my creative blog was to show what I've done.  Now I debate my desire to share what I think.  Do I really want the public privy to my brain's inner working, to private moments that occur in the walls I live between?  Really, I'm doing it right now, albeit in a vague manner.  Did you just hear the conversation I had with my husband?  No.  But will it shape what I type in the next paragraph?  I don't know.   Therein lies the struggle to define.

"How Shall I Creatively Serve Seared Tuna?"
-- The simple question preceding a landslide.

______________


Concise, decisive and efficient.

Three nice and tidy words that are everything but.  Arriving at these concepts in real life is messy, confusing and time-consuming.  When you throw in a hefty dose of perfectionist anxiety you get nothing.  That's right, you are paralyzed by the thought of each projected avenue leading you through a maze of failure.  So you do nothing.

Then you call your Mom.


______________



My food supply must be consumed.

I cannot take it with me and I refuse to waste it.  This is resulting in some creative cooking.  Slowly frozen meats are moved to the refrigerator to thaw while I come up with a new method of using them.  Just as it's no fun to take the same photograph over and over, it's no fun to make the same dinner repeatedly.

A local grocery store sells individual, frozen fillets of sushi grade Ahi tuna which was quite a surprise when I discovered them shortly after moving to an area close to a food desert.  I have made them before with  ginger/cilantro/soy sauce as well as an incredible cashew-tamarind sauce.  Without those ingredients on hand I got creative.

My most used reference book is "What to Drink With What You Eat".  Seriously.  I had purchased two bottles of wine to celebrate, Gloria Ferrer's Blanc de Blancs and McPerson's Viogner.  Knowing these would both work with seared tuna I referenced the book to explore other complementary flavors.  Then I went to the kitchen with inspiration and an appetite.

So, how shall I creatively serve seared tuna?

Why, with delicate sauces on the side of course, as seen so often on "Chopped" the Food Network's cooking competition show I watched during lunch breaks at work.

I used cannellini beans as a base for the first sauce and blended them with soy sauce, sesame oil and wasabi paste until reaching the desired flavor.  My dining partner has a delicate palate so I made sure it was not too intense while still firmly representing each flavor.  The second sauce incorporated some leftover corn/cajun rice mix (an entire post worth writing) seasoned with coriander and curry spices.  I added a few beans and a touch of chicken broth to reach a nice consistency and also took care not to make it too spicy.  This was the mutual favorite of the two sauces; the first was a bit flat even with it's well-balanced blend of flavor.  It needs a touch of oomph, but I'm not sure what.  The corn/coriander/curry blend was delightful!  The sweet, fresh corn played well with the spices and it's a combination I will remember for future uses.  Along side the tuna I spread a warm scoop of corn/rice/beans to add some substance.

Both wines went well with the dinner as a whole, though the viogner did not stand up to the wasabi sauce I expected it to.  In general, they are both easy wines to serve with food or without.

Roasted Red Pepper and Goat Cheese Alfredo.

Think back to your childhood.

Boxed macaroni and cheese is a staple of every American family whether you admit to it or not.  But do you remember the first time you tasted the fancy version with that pouch of thick, creamy, melty cheese?  You went back for seconds and made sure you licked every smear of cheese from the bowl.  It was as if a door opened to a new culinary world and you wondered what other goodness was out there to experience, what other delicious secrets your mother had been holding back on.

Well, if you haven't been introduced to the adult version of that memory, please allow me the pleasure.

This roasted red pepper and goat cheese alfredo is divine!  My sister shared the recipe with me a while back but, having never roasted a red bell pepper before, I was apprehensive.  During my last monthly Whole Foods Market excursion I picked up their giant log of 365 brand goat cheese which is priced much better than any goat cheese I can find locally.  And honestly, if I buy the small 4 ounce package I end up tearing off a corner and eating it squeeze-style on the way home from the grocery store.  Shamelessly.

This afternoon, with time, ingredients and an appetite at my disposal, I began cooking.  First off, roasting peppers is very easy.  Peeling the skin off after cooling was more difficult, but I assume if I rotated the peppers in the oven letting them char on each side the skin would be easier to remove.  So for the pepper-roasting novices, you can do this.

My minor substitutions:  using white pepper in place of black pepper, regular half and half because that's what I had, and plain goat cheese instead of herbed, as well as the fresh basil, because I could easily add herbs (though I forgot to this time because it was smelling and tasting incredible).

This alfredo sauce is one of the absolute best pasta sauces I have ever tasted.  Seriously.  I went back for seconds, scooping it from the plastic container I had prepared for tomorrow's lunch at work.  I wanted to eat it as soup.  The linguine noodles were inadequate sauce carriers though, next time I will use spiral or thick, elbow macaroni noodles.  I also imagine a thicker version spread on crusty baguette slices.

There is no protein source in this particular recipe version, though it would be easy to add tofu during the blending process to enhance the nutrition.  The sauce would also accompany salmon or chicken very well.

My wine pairing was a Sancerre from Pascal et Nicolas Reverdy.  I enjoy Sauvignon Blanc but am rarely impressed by one.  This Sancerre is probably the best representative for the grape I have tasted to date.  And no, my opinion was not skewed by the delicious meal.  In fact, I had to remind myself to sip it while eating because the food stole the stage.  I regularly look for wines that pair well with goat cheese and have yet to find one spot-on; I seek any recommendations you may have.

In closing, you must try this roasted red pepper and goat cheese alfredo.  If you are unsure or unfamiliar with goat cheese this is a perfect opportunity to experiment because blending it with cream and a grated Italian cheese allows you to adjust the taste to your liking without fear of overpowering.  If you don't want to cook it yourself, encourage a friend to do so.  Or come visit me and I'll make it.


Link, where you can also find variations on the recipe: http://www.closetcooking.com/2012/09/roasted-red-pepper-and-goat-cheese.html

I Know How it All Began.

I know how it all began.

Or rather, when it ended.

The beginning of the end started with my promotion at work last fall. It is the position I lost when transferring to a new location a couple years ago. The opportunity arrived and I loathed the thought of anyone else having it because I believe myself the most qualified and couldn't imagine continuing working part time with (and for) someone I most likely would have trained. So with an almost equally weighted pro/con list I accepted.

One item on my pro-list was working the open shift which generally runs from 7am to 2:30pm and for the first few months this worked in my favor. Then a company policy shifted which negated the reason for my position being there that early and I began working typical day hours of 9am to 5:30pm or thereabouts. Then a staffing change occurred which led to more closing shifts of 1:30 to 10pm. Why is this pertinent? Well, I didn't exactly connect the dots until recently.

Those dots are the dates of my blog posts, whether on this blog or my photography blog. My posts became more sporadic after moving to this remote location, then slowed after my promotion and have now become a rarity with my work schedule changes.

I cannot blame my number of hours worked because while working morning shifts full-time I was able to maintain my hobbies (passions, really) but while working afternoon and night shifts full-time my favorite activities have fallen wayside. And I mean waaaaayside. I used to come home around 2 or 3pm, while my thoughts and energy were still in motion, and play with my camera, fiddle with my photos or tinker on some other project until dinner time. Now I come home at dinner time (and much later), cook, eat, watch the news, then wind down and go to bed. I don't have those few, productive late afternoon hours anymore to do what I love.

One huge reason of mine for not having children is because I do not want to sacrifice the few passions I have in life. Well, now I have. Gradually, one by one, my passions are disappearing. I move from family and family moves from me. I find myself in more remote locations, further from cities and urban experiences. Job opportunities are paltry and, frankly, not very enticing. And now, said job has sucked away the last of my energy, motivation and creativity, leaving me to wonder why I should blog at all.

The excuse I tell myself is that everyone eventually sacrifices what they love for the sake of responsibility, whether it be family, children, health or employment. We all seem to give up small pieces of ourselves, one by one, until we become boring adults, doing what we must to get by. I am now among the many who complain about their job, who go through the daily motions between hitting snooze in the morning and taking vitamins before tucking themselves into bed at night. I am not the first or last to lose passion and all the creativity that comes with it. I am an average human being with no motivation left to be any different.