I woke up in the middle of the night, dog must’ve woofed or sumthin’. Not a totally unheard of event, living in the country. A lot of distractions going on outside in the big woods. Four legged distractions. Sophie in particular fancies herself a watchdog. Twelve pounds of Maltipoo vs. the wild beasts.
Bean tends to sleep through it all. Most nights I roll over, stuff a pillow over my head and go back to sleep.
But last night was different. I was in the middle of a dream. And there was a blowtorch involved. Which meant I was making art, doing the encaustic dance in my sleep.
I lay there thinking about that. About sleep as a means of recharging and refreshing and yet here I was carrying on the activities of the day on a whole ‘nother level.
As I write this many hours later, I have no memory of the the dream itself, of the content. But I still see the image I woke up with, the torch in my hand, the flame on the wax.
And I’m thinking it’s a good thing I don’t sleepwalk. And if I ever did, there’s a couple of locked doors and a gauntlet of wild beasties between me and that torch.
Time to sit back and take a deep breath. In….Out…. Oh, that’s so much better.
Between building three websites, preparing for an upcoming show, working a day job AND taking an on-line encaustics class taught by the fantabulous Judy Wise, I’d say I’m stretched a bit thin–except my pants would say that’s a lie. They would say, “Umm, Susan? There ain’t nuthin’ thin about your butt.” And I would say, “STOOPID PANTS!!!” I hate being bossed around by denim, don’t you? So, on top of everything else, I’m exercising. Hard. Yoga. Pilates. Running absolutely nowhere on the eliptical. Every day something.
AND I’M LOVING IT!!!
I’m writing this post at 9 PM. And I’m tired. No, no–beyond tired. I’m exhausted, ready to crawl into bed and konk out. And it feels SO GOOD!
Because before I got back into exercising, I was busy from the time I got up in the morning–and I’m talking early AM, to the time I went to bed ALWAYS after midnight. Sometimes hours after midnight. And when I finally went to bed I couldn’t sleep. I was tired-wired.
FirstBorn is a daddy. My baby has a BABY. And that little baby, Missy B, is two years old today. TWO. That means she’s practically a KID. PRACTICALLY A GROWN UP!!!
Today it’s a princess gown (with fairy wings–don’t forget the fairy wings). Next thing you know it’s a prom dress or a wedding gown or a lab coat with her name embroidered on the pocket.
Holy crap–they grow so fast. Seems like she was just two.
I got up yesterday, went on-line to check out the local news. The first thing that caught my eye was the story about a boy by the name of Colin Pierce, a seventeen year old with Down Syndrome who was elected homecoming king by the students at Nevada Union, the same high school my kids graduated from.
This was more than just a feel good story for me. For nearly fifteen years I’ve been an art instructor at a center for developmentally disabled adults. I’ve learned to see people for their abilities, not their dis-abilities. Some of my absolute favorite people in this world have Down Syndrome. Or Autism. Or one or more of any combination of DNA screw ups. People either through accident of birth or accident of man are not the same as everyone else.
So for me, this story went beyond Colin. Because Down kids accept themselves just fine. This story spoke volumes about how far we’ve come from a society which not too long ago institutionalized people who are different as a matter of policy. Make no mistake, we still have a long way to go. But this is a start. You can read about Colin here.
And then I read about three year old Davyn Wilkison. He’d wandered away from his home in the mountains not far from here. Wandered away the day before and was still missing. My heart went out to the family as I thought about the child’s odds. Night time temperatures weren’t too cold yet, he’d most likely survive that. But there’s a river, wild and dangerous. Bears. Mountain lions. Coyotes. Mine shafts. I wouldn’t want to be out there alone at night, I couldn’t imagine a child.
My heart went out to the little boy. To his family. But there was nothing I could do besides send up a prayer.
A little while later I was told Davyn is related to a man I know through work. Which meant he wasn’t a stranger to me anymore. He wasn’t just a story that I could walk away from. I sat there after the call ended and let the news sink in. Let myself feel. And then I said to the universe, please–let this child be found safe. And unharmed.
And lo and behold, a short while later, he was. His story is here.
Starting off the morning with good news–no, make that GREAT news set the tone for the day. And then around noon came the icing on the cake. The broken pipe that had left us without water for three days was finally fixed. We were back in the world of indoor plumbing. Showers….Flush toilets….
Made stew tonight. Forgot the bay leaf. FORGOT THE BAY LEAF!!!
Forgot the freakin’ bay leaf.
But it was GOOD. In fact, I never would’ve known…if I hadn’t already known, that there was no bay leaf in the stew.
So what is a bay leaf anyway? What magical flavor does it impart if I couldn’t even tell it was missing?
And since you asked (you were going to, you know) here is my recipe for beef stew.
Susan’s Beef Stew
Shoot a cow. Remove a pound or two of stew meat. Do something with the rest so as not to be wasteful. Apologize to it’s mother and feel remorseful. Tell yourself you’ll go vegan in a few days. Then don’t do it.
Coat the meat in flour. Brown over low heat with some olive oil. Feel absolutely no remorse for squeezing those little olives until they burst. They can’t feel anything…or can they? Tell yourself you’ll never eat olives again. Now get back to cooking.
Remove meat from pan, add more olive oil and brown (not brown brown, just cook) a couple of chopped onions. When onions are nice and perfect the way you like them…
throw in most of a small can, the little bitty size can, of tomato paste.
and some beef broth.
and some red wine. wine is good. add some more.
add a handful of thyme leaves. some salt and fresh ground pepper. garlic powder because you forgot to chop garlic with the onion. DO NOT ADD BAY LEAF OR YOU WILL GO TO HELL (just kidding…)
mix it all up, bring to a low boil and toss in the meat.
set oven to simmer, partially cover and walk away. tell someone else to stir every 15 minutes while you go do something else.
come back in a couple of hours. congratulate helpers for not burning the stew or the house. add some red potatoes and baby carrots.
go away again but make sure the helpers are still on board.
give it a half hour, forty minutes for the potatoes and carrots to cook. add a bag of frozen string beans because really, do you have the time to deal with fresh vegetables tonight? didn’t think so… this is a good place for more wine. have a glass and/or dump some in the stew.
start warning people dinner is ready in 10 minutes.
tell mr. spouse he doesn’t need to watch the rest of the show on the history channel, we know who won that war.
dish up. serve with sourdough baguette and butter. because there aren’t enough fat and carbs in the stew.
eat it again tomorrow night.
by the third night, add some more wine and broth. throw in some barley. call it soup.
