Wearing my heart on my sleeve: An ongoing project

If you have read more than one or two posts here, you know as well as anyone in my face-to-face life this important fact about me: I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I fight it sometimes, I do. But I just can't help it. I put my whole self out there, into the world, just because I feel I have to. You'll not be surprised to learn that I do not have a poker face among my repertoire of facial expressions.

Being this way brings its complications. I'm overwhelming to some people with my puppy-like eagerness. Because I'm not good at pretending ennui, I probably lack a certain mystery; I don't do aloof. 

I love meeting new people and getting to know them. I think most people are interesting, and I love learning about new friends, getting to know the details of their life.   And equally so, I love connecting with people whom I've cared about in my past.   


For years I have been a little ashamed of this kind of enthusiasm.  But now, instead of working against it, I have decided to embrace opening my heart to people. I am wearing my heart on my sleeve, proudly.

Tomorrow I will post the first in a long series of posts I'm calling "Open Heart Letters." These are open notes to people in my life--both currently or from my past--who have made some sort of impression on me. For the people in my life now--well, I am writing these because it's so good to know that someone cares for you and thinks of you, isn't it?

And for those people I knew long ago-- I realize that many of them won't even see these "love letters" I feel compelled to write.  Regardless, I think it's a worthwhile exercise to reflect on the people I have known at formative times in my life, even those I knew for just a short while. They stay in my memory. From time to time my thoughts will land on such a person, and I am reminded how amazing the wide world is, filled with good people who make positive impressions on you just by crossing your path.

This is an ambitious project, and potentially endless--there are so many people I've admired and cared for over the years.  Some notes will be long letters, others distilled into a few lines or a poem.   I invite you to come along on the journey, and consider your own connections as we go...

Poetry for a Winter Sunday

The outside is a-swirling with snow today, and the girls and I are cuddled up on the couch. While they play with their new puppet toys and watch tv, I'm thick into Linda Pastan's new collection of poems, Queen of a Rainy Country. My praise for her is nothing less than effusive, and if you read a few of these poems for yourself, you'll see why.

Here is one that is perfect for my mood this afternoon:

Parting the Waters

Nothing is lost.

The past surfaces

from the salted tide pool

of oblivion over

and over again,

and here it is now--

complete

with ironed sheets, old sins,

and pewter candlesticks.

My mother and aunt approach,

shaking the water from 

their freshly washed hair

like aging mermaids.

They have been here

all along, sewing

or reading a book, waiting

for the wand of memory

to touch them.

Stew days

On a day like yesterday, when the morning trees are glazed lacy with ice, I think stew. Esme and I set about putting this together yesterday morning before her nap. While we were gathering ingredients, I couldn't decide between Irish, Italian, or or Moroccan style--so I chanced it and used elements of all--ginger, cumin, cinnamon, fennel, carrots. It worked. Now I'm going to share it with you.

The directions are pretty detailed. If you cook a lot, ignore the instructive tone and just do your thing. If you don't cook a lot, this might help you make it more easily.



Slow meat stew for a cold day

2-3 pounds meat, cubed into large chunks. I used two kinds: veal, and some lean lamb
1 sweet onion
1.5 cups of potatoes, cubed. (About 6 medium-sized)
1 bulb of fennel, chopped into 1-inch chunks
1.5 cups roughly chopped carrots
1 cup of kale, chopped (I used 8 or 9 leaves)
1 cup of peas
1 can of chopped tomatoes, or 1 cup of fresh tomatoes, diced
4 cloves of garlic, chopped finely
1 inch square of fresh ginger, chopped finely

28 oz of chicken broth (2 cans)

3 tablespoons olive oil
2-3 tablesppons salt
3-4 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon pepper
2 teaspoons cumin
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon oregano
3/4 cup white wine
2 tablespoons lemon juice

Cooking utensils: A covered dutch oven (or any big, oven-proof pot with a lid), a frying pan (not nonstick!)

The how-to:
1. Preheat the oven to 250 degrees F. Get all your stuff "mise en place" or put in it place, waiting for you to use it. It will go together much faster this way, even (or especially) with a toddler helping!

2. Cut up all vegetables, starting with the potatoes. Set the potatoes aside in a bowl and cover them with lemon juice. This keeps them from turning brown, and gives your stew the acid that it will need to deepen the flavor.

3. Cut the meat, and let it sit out for 15 minutes, salted and peppered lightly.

4. Heat the olive oil, then saute the onions until they are translucent and slightly browned. Take off the heat, and dump the onions and oil into the dutch oven.

5. Sear the meat in the same hot frying pan, without adding more oil. A nonstick pan doesn't work so well for browning, so stick with a regular old stainless pan. Keeping the heat on high, brown all sides of the meat by turning the pieces as they cook. You only want to cook the outside of the meat, so stay with the pan and do this fast. It will only take about 3 minutes for each batch.

6. When the meat is browned,dump it out into the dutch oven, on top of the onions. Set the hot pan back onto the burner--don't wash it yet!

7. Deglaze the frying pan. This is basically just pouring the wine into the hot frying pan, and using the wine to scrape the bits of lamb and veal off the pan. Your stew will have much better flavor because of this little detail. When your pan is deglazed, pour it into the dutch oven.

8. Pour the chicken broth into the dutch oven.

9. Add the rest of the vegetables to the dutch oven. Stir it up.

10. Add the seasonings and stir again. By the way, I don't really use a measuring spoon when I do these; I eyeball it. My eyes are pretty accurate, but regardless, you should adjust the amounts as you see fit. Make sure you taste it halfway through to see if it's on track. Don't taste immediately--that meat isn't cooked yet!

11. Put it into the oven for at least 1.5 hours. I cooked mine for 3 hours, and it was exactly right.


I wish this were a smello-blog, so you could experience the amazing scent of this stew, steaming hot from the oven. I guess you'll have to make it for yourself to find out!



Now if you have read this far, and are wondering why a person who is on a "reduction plan" would make such a lovely, rich stew....well, the word for the year is ENJOY, right? And to my delight, an 8 oz portion is just enough to fill one medium bowl, and my happy tummy.

Lines in my head, part 2 of a series

More lines to inspire, to haunt. These glow like embers in my mind.


"You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler's wife. Smell me."
from "The Cinnamon Peeler," Michael Ondaatje, from The Cinnamon Peeler: Selected Poems


"The word spills from my tongue, not scientific: Genes,
folksy and proud, like they’re crops grown on family land."
from The Storialist
"Monday, October 6th, On the Street, Mr. Pinguet, Paris."

"The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls."
from "To Be of Use," by Marge Piercy, from Circles on the Water

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying :
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying."
from "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time," Robert Herrick

"The sea is so beautiful,
she is so young and old.
I look at her and
I see the beauty
of the light of music."
from "You are Everything," REM, from the album Green

And, to serve a different sort of gluttony:

"Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry."
from "Eating Poetry," Mark Strand in Selected Poems

Too Many Cookies, Corduroy

The cuteness of the overweight bears belies the reality: I could lose a few. Like, a lot. It's not just because I'm modest that you don't see my photo on this blog. Now, don't go picturing some Simpson-esque character saying "I wash myself with a rag on a stick..." I'm not headed for an episode on the Discovery Health Channel just yet. But two (or three) dress sizes smaller, and I would look more like myself--or the self I think I am.

I look at photos of myself from a few years ago, and that Kirie calls to me, her head tilted in a way that shows some concern and a bit of embarrassment, "How you've changed." A combination of years, a baby, laziness, and a general attraction to good food--et voila! I am no longer la petite Americanne.

So why blog about this? It's not news, not interesting, certainly not unique (as seemingly half the population starts on diets this time of year). I'm writing about it because thinking about my weight is taking increasing time. I've noticed that it's influencing me in more ways--in how I dress, how I stand, in how I experience the world. I know that I do see a look of surprise on my face when I see myself in the mirror--is that me? "Too many cookies, Corduroy," I'll think.   

I brush those thoughts off, most of the time. Being overweight isn't disgusting or sinful, and it's not from shame that I want to lose weight. And I'm also not putting off happiness, saying "I'll be really be happy when I'm a size 4." All that said, I do want to make my body match the image of myself I carry in my head. My problem: I just haven't been motivated enough.

To keep with the one little word, I want to enjoy all of it, you know.  I want to be fully engaged in life, and that means enjoying limits, and more time for myself (read: exercise).   As I pointed out yesterday, "enjoy" is going to be an active term for me, and the onus is on me to make the efforts of  (ahem) reduction (not diet, I stress) something joyful.  This active joyfulness is not as simple as it looks, I'm beginning to think. I need some help in getting there.

So I'm writing this to give myself the kind of kick only a little public humiliation can give. Make no mistake: this humiliation isn't about my weight, but about not fulfilling my promise. How humiliated I would be to go back on my word once I've stated it publicly? By saying "it's time," I'm making a public commitment. I promise myself that my lifestyle is going to accommodate more workouts, fewer calories, and less stress-eating. I promise you I won't bore the snore out of you with the details of my progress. 

Hold me to it.

One little word: to name 2009 for myself

I've heard about the one little word idea from a few bloggers, now (my friend Irene among them) and I'm on the bandwagon.

What could be more poetic than focusing on one little word for the new year?

Strange as it seems, finding the right word for the year is feeling sort of like finding a name for a baby or pet.
I've always loved naming things--nicknames, character names, and etymology--what the "names" of words mean themselves. In college, I found a baby name book, and I spent long hours wondering how the meaning of a person's name might influence his or her character. In writing short stories, I found that I was indeed influenced by the meaning of my characters' names; though sometimes, given the wily nature of fictional characters, their personalities veered in the opposite direction of what I had intended.

When the time came for my husband and I to choose names for our pets and our children, we undertook the responsibility as we might a research project. The old "How can you ruin on the playground?" And "Will it make any nasty words in another language?" (which we didn't want, by the way--a la Nicholas Cage in Saturday Night Live) Of all the things we did, my favorite means of testing was to try yelling each name out the back door, as though summoning the kid to dinner. "Fernando!" "Wesley!" "Ainsley!" These didn't have the right ring, clearly. All fine names, but didn't suit for the sound we were seeking.

When we found the name Ada, and later the name Esme, we knew right away. Even before they passed all the tests, they just felt right. That's how it is, I guess.  

Now to naming the year 2009 for myself. Since I heard about the "one little word" last week, I've been absolutely taken with the idea. I want to honor it. So just as I would with finding any other name, I've been letting ideas come to me from what I'm reading, and what I'm saying, and just seeing how they feel. I've been researching and percolating.

Last night, as I was feeding the cats, it came to me: "Enjoy!" I said, and set down their plates of Fancy Feast. And I stood there, cats winding about my ankles, and felt that little Eureka-moment. Exactly.

Enjoy. What a lovely intention. En- as in "to put into," "to go into," "to cover or provide with," "to cause to be," "thoroughly," And Joy--which you know.

While I will admit to the appreciating the hedonistic element of this word, it's really something else that draws me to it. What I like best about the word enjoy is that it's about being actively present, and forcing, ever so gently, a mood. It puts the power on me to make things joyful, to provide joy, to find joy, or put joy thoroughly into things. It gives me responsibility for my own happiness, which is where it should be, right?

And so, my dear 2009, this is what I will do with you as a year, what I will name you. Enjoy. I will find the joy in the littlest spaces, the least expected spots, my lowest moments. I will cover my world with joy. And cause to be...(in).joy

May you enjoy, too, all of your 2009--all of it.

How do you do it?

Over the holidays, in conversations with friends and family, I've wandered into the topic of blogging several times.   It's not something I always confess to doing.  I say confess, because talking about it does feel like a confession of sorts--to see my blog is to see a side of me that's not immediately apparent in my day-to-day life.   

Slowly, though, I am revealing it to people in my real life. See the pretty cards MOO cards I made for calling cards? I've now included the URL to 3littlechickies, which is a big step.

My blog takes up a decent amount of my thinking time, and writing it is something I really love to do. After keeping my blog for almost two years, I'm more ready to talk about it in real life. Maybe I'm getting more comfortable with the merge between the me I present in writing and the me in person. That's not to say that I'm so very different; it's just that to look at me, you really wouldn't think that I had much to say.   That assumes that I do have something to say, and that's assuming that the way a person looks is always representative of what they think about--oh boy, this is getting complicated, and this is why I don't usually talk about it.    That is fodder for an entirely different post, isn't it?

What I'm talking about here is much simpler.  How do I go about blogging?   Here are a few of the questions I get.  I'll give a few answers here, answers that are attempts to be more articulate than my off-the-cuff responses I've given to family or friends in the past.

Question 1:

"No, really," I'm asked by a family member, "how do you find the time?  I don't know where you find the time to write anything, let alone take photos."

It's not surprising I get asked this. I make no secret about not having time to do the basic things, like finish folding the laundry, or vacuuming the carpets more than once or (if I'm really good!) twice a week.  So to do the blog, I don't find time to write. I sneak it or steal it.  For instance, this entry that you're now reading has taken me 9 visits to the computer, each fewer than 4 minutes long. Some of my visits are less than a minute long, actually. Before I'm ready to hit the publish button, I imagine I will have written for a total of 35 minutes or more, and then edited for 10. And all of this writing is literally done in bits and pieces, a sentence or two at a time, in the bits of time I can manage to carve out of the day.  The time deficit from all these stolen moments shows itself in piles of socks that need to be folded, and sometimes by the circles under my eyes from waking up too early.

Question 2:
"Where do you get ideas? I would have no idea what to write."

I have always loved writing, and in my head, I'm "writing" all the time. So coming up with ideas and developing them has never been a problem. These writing-thoughts are the basic starting ideas for the posts, and they come to me all the time. I put some of them into a little notebook, and some of them get axed by my "inner editor" to be fodder for something else, like an essay or a poem. My family is sweetly supportive of my blogging, too, so sometimes my topics come from them. For instance, Ada will give me a suggestion, like "Hey mom, this soup is so good, it should go on your blog! Go get your camera!" A cute endorsement like that will sometimes make me write a post immediately.

Question 3:
"Who are you writing this for?"
This is the biggest and most loaded question of all, and it's one I grapple with all the time. In fact, getting asked this question is probably why I haven't talked about the blog as much as I might have. It merits a few posts for a fully-developed answer, but I'll give the brief version here.

Coming from some relatives, asking "Who are you writing for?" is akin to asking "Is a blog like email?" Needless to say, this relative isn't going to be looking at my blog anytime soon. Neither is the person who is asking it with an inflection that says, "Who do you think you are? Why are you wasting your time with this?" These people aren't my audience.

But you are reading this, aren't you? I am writing for you. I am writing for myself, too. I'm writing for people who know me well in person and live far away, and I'm writing for people who haven't met me, but know me through my words. I'm writing it because I feel compelled to get some of my thought-writing into a space other than the one between my ears. I send this little snippet of myself into the ethers and hope to make a connection with someone else, even if it's only connecting with the me I'll be at some later date...