nightswimming

 

picture this: 

me, seven years old
after dinner
hot summer night
no breeze 
a perfect night for one thing
nightswimming
only problem?
no pool

That's not a problem though. Uncle Will and Aunt Evie have one! We beg and plead. Can we please call? Can we go? Can we go? Like right now? 

My brother and I are changed into bathing suits and in the car before my parents have even relented. 

The ten minute drive feels like an hour. Windows are rolled down. I could drive there. I am a child of course but I know the way. Of course I know the way to one of my favorite places in the world. The familiar landmarks in my mind's eye. The drive-in theatre. The miniature golf course. The other mini-golf course. The sign for the school where my dad works. Then, finally the neighborhood. The divided road and finally we turn right at the corner by the tree. Anticipation at its height. We're almost there. We pull up to the curb and park. We are there. The dream. Realized. Towels swung over our shoulders. At the fence we wait for my dad to open the latch. The door creaks open. We are there. 

A clear night and in my memory it is perfect. Nothing is wrong. No bugs. No problems. Uncle Will, Aunt Evie and us. The water is warm because their pool heater is broken and it is simply perfect for the evening air. We are all in the pool. I am floating on my back. I am staring at the stars for what feels like hours, days. It is beautiful. Night noises and our laughter are the only sounds that matter.

I am obsessed with water. As a young child, I sit on my grandmother's lap in New Jersey and we look through her House Beautiful and Better Homes and Garden magazines searching for pools. For hours. They are oversized magazines so we can see the details. The flowers. The landscaping. The pools. The water. I imagine lying on my back in the pool, surrounded by beauty, staring at the sky. Then, my grandmother offers to make me french toast. Heaven. 

Fast forward. 

I am working this summer afternoon at home. June 29, 2023. After work I am debating a walk, gym or something else. It is hot. I am changed and am in the pool before I have fully decided to swim. My pool. Yes, the dream. My dream. Realized. I feel the water. Silky. Soft. It embraces me. Envelopes me. Comforts even. Allows me to spread my wings. I float on my back staring at the sky. I tread water. I am me. My dog is running around taking in the moment as only a pet can. Music plays. The past is the present. The present inspires me. 

I realize I need to write. Motivation is there to capture. My words won't do what I am feeling justice but it doesn't matter. I pour wine, I light the candle, I play songs that I feel deeply and I write. 

Immensely grateful. 

Now put on some songs that speak to you in ways that you feel in your soul. 

I am not cooking tonight and I am perfectly okay with that. 

The picture I place here is unedited. It is me. Just me. I am perfectly okay with that. 

An aside: Today I saw something refreshing on Instagram.  Someone posted something but when you went to comment on the post there was note there. It was a gentle reminder to remain respectful of others as they entered the conversation. This inspired me - someone of note was reminding people to be respectful, kind. 

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

-Amy

boneless

"Well she had no choice...Trixie bawled. She went boneless. She did everything she could to show how unhappy she was." from Knuffle Bunny by Mo Willems. 

I remember reading that line for the first time. 

"She went boneless."

Boneless. That image is always able to make me smile. Children have the ability to just do that. I think about my own girls being so sound asleep in my arms, heavy. Or when they were hysterical and simply couldn't move.

Boneless.

I think about the lack of inhibition younger people have generally.  A song comes on and they just dance. They really feel the beat, the music. In fact it is a need to do so. There is a complete lack of fear. 

I think about when they play pretend. When they use their imagination freely, by coming up with simple or elaborate scenes and situations. 

It is the process, the journey. That is the adventure. It isn't the destination. They dance like nobody is watching. Truly living in the moment. Simple moments. One after another. 

Then, we grow up. 

Naturally, we become more guarded, more aware, more careful. Our bodies become more stiff. There is a lack of space. Our breathing can even become more shallow. Fear settles in. 

I have become acutely aware of this about myself. In the fall, I went to a family wedding and my sister in law and I danced our hearts out. We sang and we danced. We let it all out for the first time in years. And honestly? It felt freaking amazing. My dad passed away the following week. When he died, I feel like a part of the fun loving side of me went dormant. Part of me crawled back inside myself. To a place that is safer, away, more distant. 

Recently, I saw a picture on Instagram of someone's mother dancing professionally as a young person. It made me pause. The beauty and the freedom of expression. Movement. I know I feel differently when I listen to music. How can I capture the rest of it? I miss those feelings! To feel more easygoing. To feel more me. To feel space and loose. To capture those moments that came so easily when I was younger. 

I have made a decision. I am chasing it. I am manifesting it by challenging myself. Every day, every week, I am going outside my comfort zone, even briefly. I am fighting the fear. It is time for the parts of me that are named fear and self-conscious to stand side by side and hold hands with the parts that are their opposite. It is time for balance. To breathe a little deeper, to look up at the light and to laugh. A deep, belly laugh.

Time to put on Last Last by Burna Boy and let's get cooking. 

I am going back to the archives for this one!!!! 

Greek-Style Burgers with Feta Aioli - Cooking Light, a million years ago

Aioli (I sometimes double this recipe because it is really good)
1/2 cup (2 ounces) crumbled feta cheese
2 T light mayo
2 T plain fat free yogurt
1/4 ground pepper
1 garlic clove minced

Burgers
5 (1/2 inch thick) slices red onion
Cooking spray
1 pd lean ground sirloin
2/3 cup fresh breadcrumbs (I use fresher than canned but not homemade)
1/3 cup chopped bottled roasted red bell peppers
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 tsp dried oregano
1/4 tsp salt (I omit usually)
1/4 tsp ground pepper
1 10-ounce package frozen chopped spinach, thawed, drained and squeezed dry
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 garlic cloves, minced
rolls of your choice - they call for sourdough sandwich buns (I typically don't use a bun!)

For aioli: Combine first ingredients in a food processor, pulse one minute or until smooth. Cover and chill.

For onion: Place onion slices on a broiler pan or grill coated with cooking spray. Cook 2 minutes on each side, set aside.

For burgers: Combine beef and next 9 ingredients in a large bowl.  Divide beef mixture into 5 equal portions (I make more like 9 smaller burgers). Place patties on grill rack or broiler pan coated with cooking spray, and cook 6 minutes on each side or until burgers are done.

Spread 1 1/2 T aioli over top of the burger, along with the onions. Voila!  

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

-Amy

collapse

 

I am in Paris. I am standing across from Place des Vosges in the Marais around 5 p.m. We are running a little late and waiting for a taxi to pick us up. I am a bit tired from the day and lost in my mind. As I am zoned out, reflecting on the history of what is around me, out of the corner of my eye, I see a man stumble by me and cross the narrow street. He collapses outside the gate to the park. My attention refocuses when I see him on the ground. This isn't something I see every day. 

People go to him. I notice a woman from my left view actually run towards him as a group gathers to help. Some are on their phones calling the French version of 911. Others are attending directly to him, trying to rouse him. After a few minutes, he stands and seemingly shakes off what has just occurred. The group tentatively gives him space, very respectful of his space. He takes two more gingerly steps and collapses again. Once again, the group rushes to his side. Working together, they assist him without any hesitation. Off to the side I see a woman being comforted by her friends, clearly upset by what she has witnessed. I see others still on their phones trying to get through to emergency services. I see the woman who came running begin the process of CPR. He is then placed on his side and I see movement. I breathe a sigh of relief. 

The police, fire engine, ambulance arrive. Statements are made. He is taken away in the ambulance and the group disperses slowly. 

I am still standing across from Place des Vosges in the Marais around 5 p.m. 

My first thought was how struck I was, even moved, to see people go towards the man who collapsed. Why did that surprise me? If I am being completely honest, I was shocked that people went towards him instead of away from him. I am curious if that scene had unfolded in a city like New York or Los Angeles or Chicago, what would have happened? Am I so jaded to think that few would have rushed to him on impulse? The Bystander Effect. The case of Kitty Genovese coming to mind. The opposite happened here. There was no thinking. No wondering. No judgement. That afternoon in Paris, people saw someone in need and immediately ran to help. Literally. It truly restored a faith in humanity while at the same time, gave me pause to think that I was surprised by what I had witnessed.

The second thought I had was how quickly life can change for someone. My day. His day. Feet, even inches, apart. In a moment. In an instant. Things can change. This absolutely reset my perspective. We all experience different lives but we share the same pavement, the same air. Vital for me to remember that too. 

Time to put on Only a Hobo by Bob Dylan and let's get cooking. 

The other night I made Pesto Trapenese, This is a recipe from Smitten Kitchen. It is absolutely perfect in the summer with fresh pasta. It really hit the spot and I can't wait to make again. Find fresh, colorful ingredients and enjoy summer!

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

-Amy

afterglow

 

It's been one week. One week since I returned home. One week since our trip, our adventure, ended. In many ways things are back to normal. Routine re-established. Re-entry complete. Laundry done and put away. Groceries stocked in the refrigerator. Work back into full swing.

But. 

It stays with me. 

The trip. 

That feeling. 

Indescribable in many ways. The experience of being somewhere new, of relaxing into the moment. Being in the present. Allowing myself the ability to simply observe and take in what I can of another culture, another way of living. To learn. To seek. To be. I didn't want to insert myself. I wanted to blend in and explore a new place through a different set of eyes.

Being away, traveling, isn't always easy and it isn't always fun. There were moments. Moments of complexity. Moments of feeling off, feeling uncomfortable. I looked in the mirror and I saw it all. I rediscovered parts of me that were and are hiding. I realized that there are parts of me that have been hidden away for so long that they need some coaxing to feel comfortable being brought out into the open again. I took for granted that these parts of me are always there, just dormant, waiting. In the end though, if I don't engage those parts, they become static and awkward. Stale. It is crucial to step outside in order to find me again.

Clarity. 

Stripping away routine. 

Stepping away in order to step into something.

Clarity.

I am but one. One of billions. We are all so different and beautiful. Filled with our own stories, histories, dreams, trauma, aspirations, insecurities, countries, loves. Things that make us laugh. Things that make us cry. Things that make us angry. Our experiences are unique but they are also shared. I need to celebrate and learn from people. Realizing that we are more alike than different changes how we treat each other.  As humans. As friends. 

The key for me is to return from these travels and keep a piece with me. In my pocket. In my heart. In my skin and in my mind. To keep what I have gained with me so that my world is more open. So that the things I have learned about myself, all those parts that were neglected feel comfortable to come into the light again. To face the sun and shine. 

Put on Cheap Clothes by Whitley and let's get cooking. Today's recipe is an oldie but goodie. I am posting it because I made the corn salad this past weekend and the ribs are in my very, very near future. Summer is here people!

Foolproof Ribs with BBQ Sauce; Corn & Feta Salad

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Choose adventure too. Oh the places you will go. Peace and love always.