Sponge-o-Rama!

Today, I took my parents on a Gulf-Coast Adventure. We drove 2+ hours to Tarpon Springs, a touristy community north of Tampa, known for its Greek-immigrant population, drawn originally for its sponge industry. The spongebeds are mostly depleted, but the old-Florida tacky-fabulous "museums" and sponge shops remain amidst Greek restaurants and bakeries.

We arrived late in the morning, and scored free parking (under a wire popular with local fowl, who proceeded to foul my car). We went first to get tickets for a boat tour of the Anclote River and out to the Gulf, stopping at a barrier island (Anclote Key) for seashelling.

From there, we went to lunch at Mykonos, where we had potato patties (patatekeftedes or something similar), flavored with lemon, parsley, and feta, followed by souvlaki, Greek salad, and pan-fried shrimp. Too stuffed for dessert, we wandered the main strip, in and out of shops, wishing I had any desire for a natural sponge. They just look gross. It's a textural thing, but they just look icky. I'll take my hot pink synthetic bath poof over a natural sponge any day, sorry Tarpon Springs.

Anyhow, we puttered around until boarding time. Off we went! It was a slow tour out of the river in the no-wake zone, but we got to see several large birds and some dolphin frolicking (and later, fishing).

We motored on out to the key, were we went ashore and collected seashells. I don't know why, exactly, I collected so many, but I will find something to do with them. There were so many, everywhere! Way more than the east coast beaches. We were warned against taking any with live critters in them, partly because we should leave living creatures go about their business, and partly because of the dreadful funk they would create. I noticed a bit of funk coming from my trunk (the whole island emanated that scent). Later, at home, when rinsing, I discovered that I brought a couple of the wee beasties home. :-/

Anyhow, following our return to the dock, we drove out to Sunset Beach, but sunset was obscured by some high clouds, so we took some pictures, watched an engagement-photo session, and were entertained by a trio of high-schoolers who lost a football in a palm tree and subsequently lost about eight large rocks in futile attempts to knock it loose. Watch your heads under palm trees in the middle of Sunset Beach, Tarpon Springs, everyone. Anyhow, we took off towards downtown Tampa, where I knew of a Taco Bell with Chili Cheese Burritos. We navigated there, only to find the Taco Bell... well, no Taco Bell. It is now some pizza place. The up side was the car wash next door, where for 5 bucks, I got my car cleaned (including bird-poop-pressure-wash and hand dry.

Not a bad way to spend a day.

Kitsch Tally:

Pressed Penny Count: 2 (well, okay, 3 because the first one didn't turn out well)

Wacky Wavy Inflatable Arm-Flailing Tube Man Count: 4

O-Rama Count: 1

Shameless Commerce

What I'm telling those that ask:

13 weeks of pottery studio time! Who knew this existed?? Would be so fun for summer.

Rain boots! I like these and these.

New Dansko clogs. Mine were a Christmas gift several years ago, and I keep leaving sole fragments wherever I walk. At this point, re-soling is likely out of the question. These are what I have. I don't understand how these are different. But these are really cool!

ipod headphones

New David Gray album

Old Brandon Heath album

Le Creuset Enameled Cast Iron 5-qt Oval French Oven. Like my stand mixer, this is destined to be on my "why didn't I own this sooner" list, I suspect. Or maybe 6.75-qt. I don't know. Not picky on color, but I don't love the orange/red. I should probably haunt LC outlets, Tuesday Mornings, or Marshalls.

Levenger Empyrean Ink

10x10x3-inch and 6x6x3-inch square cake pans. A turntable too.

HK socks!

Lush Snow Fairy shower gel and solid perfume. Also Candy Fluff perfume.

The wide-angle lens I rented this past summer.

Once Upon a Time...

...I had a blog.

It's Thanksgiving Break. And with this prolonged sabbath, I intend to rest. And read. And write. Though I need to read lab reports and write grades on papers, a friend has convinced me to feel little guilt about taking a deserved time of rest.

Tomorrow's Destination: Tarpon Springs.

Peace of Wild Things

The Peace of Wild Things

Wendell Berry

When despair grows in me

and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water,

and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

No Audience

...the world requires no audience, no witnesses...

(Conor Oberst, I Must Belong Somewhere)

At sundown, I often think it strange that the waves continue crashing, the mountains keep on standing, even after they dissolve into inky black. All the beauty on earth is routinely hidden.

The mere fact that I can't see it doesn't keep it from happening. Which immediately feels extraordinarily self-absorbed; I know that these things don't exist exclusively for my pleasure. (Sure, they do, to some extent.^{1 ,2})

Hearing the ocean - but not seeing it - always reminds me of my size in the universe. And the beauty in the promise of a sunrise.

Science Scouts

I'll admit I really only wanted to be in Girl Scouts for the badges.  Okay, and maybe the cookies.  Because you could get a badge for selling cookies!

So, much delight to come across this!

Here's my sash!

Commencement

Graduation is today.  I adore graduations, as I do most ceremony.  (Okay, partly because there is costuming involved!)  The symbolism of academic regalia.  The families and the accomplishment and the transition.  The pomp.  The circumstance.  

The tears I shed are from an overflow of feelings, not exclusively sadness.  I never fail to find myself swept up in a tempest of emotion.  Sure, there is sadness for the loss of the everyday presence of some very special individuals.  But it's tempered.  By excitement for students concluding this chapter and outlining the next.  Pride in some students' extraordinary stories and the joy of participation in them.  Love.  

In the words of Dr. Seuss, which will inevitably be used in commencement addresses worldwide: do not cry because it's over - smile because it happened.

Congratulations, Class of 2009.  Go, and take flight.  Travel lightly, but keep some souvenirs of these four years tucked in your suitcase hearts.

Birthday Month!

It's already nine days into my birthday month, and I'm finally now alerting everyone.

It's nice to have a birthday at the very end of the month - once the calendar page changes, I get several weeks of anticipation.

Here's my list of what I want for my birthday, for which I know you've all been waiting.

Remove Before Flight keychain

Hinge Wallet - because Jess says I need a new wallet

Stila Twinset in Demi Claret (two, please!)

OPI Polish in Underwater Fantasy

Gap dress - black; size TBD

Extension tubes so I can fake some macro shots

Wide-angle lens (hey, it's a wishlist)

Phineas; Six Stories by John Knowles

Levenger ink - Empyrean

10-lb Adjustable Ankle Weights

Bike Helmet - Size M/L, not picky on color, probably black.

A jacaranda tree

A Meyer lemon tree

Music:

Brandon Heath (both albums)

The new U2

The new Jars of Clay

Missed Marks

What I ordered for my mom for Mother's Day:

What was delivered:

The hell?! 

Okay, okay, to be entirely fair, the florist did tell me that they were out of the dahlias, and I told them to substitute a chrysanthemum or lily or something else big.

But come on.

First, with the colors of those roses in there, I'd have probably gone with a dark pink or red gerbera, not orange.  Or yellow spray roses instead of ivory.  I dig the pittosporum, but greenery alone cannot redeem this.

Second, that vase is all wrong. The arrangement's shape is all wrong. I ordered it for the subtle asymmetry in a modern vase, but I got off-kilter bud-vase arranging in a ginger-gar vase.

Third, I know flowers open as they age, but it just looks scrawny.

I guess that's what I get for trying a new florist... >:(

Holy Week

It's been an interesting and busy week, but, outside of my Monday-night small group's discussion of Passover, I haven't paid much attention to the upcoming Easter celebration, much beyond buying Peeps1 for my chemistry classes' gas-laws demonstrations.   I have foregone many of the typical Eastertime traditions - nothing given up for Lent, the extent of my fasting was for a blood test one afternoon, reading things other than scripture.

In what can only be characterized as a half-assed attempt at remembrance, I started collecting some songs in a Holy Week playlist, of sorts.  I've been listening to it in the car most of the week.  A mix of praise, darkness, reinvented hymns, redemption, and, ultimately, love.

Jesus Paid It All, Mosaic Worship

...o praise the one who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead...

The Eleventh Hour, Jars of Clay

...I'll find you when I think I'm out of time...

The Wonderful Cross, Chris Tomlin (and maybe Matt Redman?)

...bids me come and die and find that I may truly live...

What Wondrous Love, Jars of Clay

...while millions join the theme...

Beautiful, Scandalous Night, Smalltown Poets

...at the wonderful, tragic, mysterious tree/ on that beautiful scandalous night you and me/ were atoned by His blood and forever washed white...

 

O Come and Mourn With Me Awhile, Jars of Clay

...and victory remains with love...

Martyrs and Thieves, Jennifer Knapp

...where there is peace and love in the light...

Everything, Lifehouse

not particularly Eastery, but it's just one of my favorites

Love Song, Third Day

This song provokes a physical response in me like none other. 

...and I know that you don't understand the fullness of my love/how I died upon the cross for your sins/and I know that you don't realize how much that I give you/ and I promise you I would do it all again...

Marvelous Light, Charlie Hall

Another one I included just because I like it.

...see the light that I have found...

Bread and Wine, Campus House

I don't even know what the real name of this song is or how to attribute it - it's ripped from a 11-year-old CD from a campus ministry - but it's lovely.  I can't quite make out all the lyrics, but here are some of them:

Eat my bread 

Drink my wine

Bitterness yields to the sweet

[? ?]

I watch you lie upon your bed 

of reminiscent regret

and I would simply like to say 

that I will not let go

Drink my wine

Eat my bread

Raise your glass of tears and laugh instead

It's funny you should pray, I must say

I was just thinking about you

thinking about the day 

when you said you will not let go

One death [debt?]

One breath [bread?]

One blood

One Father's little baby boy

One truth

One man

And [?] passion

One night

Flesh is bread

Blood is wine

Give and take if you are 

so inclined

Lose yourself in me 

and I will be the whole of you

Take your brother's hand and say 

that you will not let go

1 Side note on Easter candy: When I was growing up, my grandmother (who lived with us), always bought me a hollow chocolate bunny.  They're always dreadfully cheap and waxy chocolate, but I always looked forward to receiving that bunny!  I'd eat the ears first, and leave the sugar eyes for last.  It's been a dozen years since she passed away, and even more since she last bought me a hollow bunny, but every year since, I have bought myself one.  This year, though, I went upmarket with Lindt.  Only because Target didn't have much of the bunny species for which I was looking by the end of the week - only solid chocolate, or else abominations like Butterfinger-Bunnies.

Pasta Party

We hosted our supper club this month, which meant it was our job to decide the theme.  We'd done the same stuff, so I decided that this month's supper club was brought to you by the letter S.  Everything had to have an ingredient that began with S.  We had a spinach salad with strawberries and sunflower seeds.  San Pellegrino.  Sunflower and flax seed bread.  Blackberry cobbler (it had sugar in it. ;) )  And I made chicken and fresh pasta with fresh sage leaves harvested from my windowsill.

Semolina and all-purpose.

Kneaded dough.

Sage harvest!

Rolling it out.

Placing the sage.

Sage leaves enveloped and stretched.

Fresh Sage Pasta Squares

(from Williams-Sonoma Pasta With Sauces)

7 oz (220 g) semolina flour

4 oz (125 g) all-purpose flour

1/4 t. salt

2 eggs

1 1/2 T. water

On a clean surface, combine semolina, all-purpose flour, and salt in a mound.  Make a well in the center and break in the eggs.  Add water.  Using a fork, blend the ingredients in the well, gradually drawing in flour, until all ingredients are combined into a dough.  Dust surface with flour and knead, pushing and turning repeatedly, until the dough feels smooth - about 7-10 minutes.  Cut dough into four pieces, and use a machine to roll out pasta [on my machine, I stepped down to a "4" out of 7].  Lay pasta on work surface, very lightly moisten the top of the sheet, and place clean dry sage leaves on half.  Fold over the rest of the strip onto the sage and re-roll to desired thickness.  Sage leaves will stretch and be seen through the translucent pasta.  Cut into squares and lay on wax paper to dry briefly before cooking.  When ready to cook, boil in salted water for 2 minutes before draining.  Toss with Sage-and-Shallot Butter.

Sage-and-Shallot Butter

(can make a day in advance)

4 oz. (1/2 c.) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 T. minced shallots

1 T. minced fresh sage

1/2 t. salt

1/2 t. ground pepper

In the work bowl of a food processor, combine all ingredients.  Pulse several times until mixture is smooth and well-blended.  Transfer to a piece of plastic wrap, cover, and roll into a cylinder.  Refrigerate until solid.

Discovery

Central Florida may want for charm most days, but there are some things that make living here pretty cool.  

Like a space shuttle launch at sunset.  

And when its landing path is right over your house.

Boom!

Blueberry Cakes

Knowing a friend likes sour-cream-blueberry donuts from the local donut purveyor, I decided to do a variation on them for his birthday.  I modified a pound cake recipe into cupcakes, topped them with my usual buttercream, and arranged some white chocolate ribbons on top.

1 c. butter, softened

2 1/2 c. sugar

6 eggs, separated

1 c. sour cream (I use the light stuff, to maintain some pretense of healthfulness)

1/4 t. baking soda

3 c. flour

1 t. vanilla

1 t. almond extract (I omitted to make these nut-allergy-friendly, but would really like to try it next time)

2 c. blueberries (I use frozen)

Stir baking soda into sour cream in a small bowl.  In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar, add egg yolks, one at a time.  Beat until fluffy.  Add flour alternately with sour cream mixture, mix well.  Whip egg whites until stiff peaks form and fold into batter.  Add blueberries (if using frozen, keep them in the freezer until you add them or else you'll have blue batter - I mean, unless that's your thing.  In that case, blue it up!)

Heat oven to 350 degF.  Fill cupcake papers 75-80% full, and bake 35-40 minutes (yes, it's a long time).   Makes 24 full cupcakes and 2 4-inch round cakes, a huge yield.

As far as blueberry cakes go, I have another recipe I like a little better, but I wanted the effect of the sour cream in these cupcakes.  Here's that one, from a Junior League cookbook from my hometown:

1 1/2 c. butter, softened

1 1/2 c. sugar

4 eggs

1 t. vanilla

1 1/2 c. flour

1 t. baking powder

1 pint blueberries

powdered sugar

Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy.  Add eggs one at a time, add vanilla.  Sift together baking powder and flour, add gradually to butter mixture.  Beat for a moment at high speed to make it fluffy.  Fold in blueberries.  Pour into greased and floured 9-inch springform pan, and bake 70 minutes.  Serve on a pool of blueberry sauce, with a dusting of powdered sugar.

Kitchen Konfessions

I've yet to find a pancake recipe that surpasses Bisquick.

There!  I said it.

I've munched pancakes all around the globe, and yet, I haven't found any that I like better than what I make at home with Bisquick.  Okay, truth be told, I do fancy it up a bit - I use the extra-fluffy recipe, with its triple-action acid-base chemistry1, to produce a magically voluminous cake.  And I fry them in a little more oil than most so they get a ring of crunchity goodness around the edge, a trick I picked up on an elementary-school-era sleepover with a friend.  And maybe a handful of pecans or some banana slices here and there.  But other pancakes are just anemic and blah.

Now those are pancakes!

1  3 NaHCO3 (s) + C6H8O7 (aq)  -->  3 CO2 (g) + 3 H2O (l) +  Na3C6H5O7 (aq)

and

NaHCO3 (s) + 2 Na2H2P2O7 (aq)  -->  2 CO2 (g) + H2O (l) + 2 Na2HPO4 (aq)

and probably a little

2 NaHCO3 (s)  -->  CO2 (g) + H2O (l) + Na2CO3 (aq)

Ah, Spring

We're on spring break, and we've had shockingly beautiful weather, real chamber-of-commerce kinds of days. And perhaps it's a bit ungrateful for me to say that I am not quite ready for summer. I'm reluctant to give up my wool and my turtlenecks, even though we have had a decent run of winter. But I'm not quite ready for the summer pattern just yet. That said, we've had a string of days lately that start out pleasantly cool but quickly climb into the 80s under clear skies.

A friend and I spent a lovely day out in town yesterday, at Leu Gardens for a portion of it. The garden admission is waived on Mondays before noon, so it was crowded with retirees, mothers with strollers, and an army of SLR-bearing photographers. Not that we weren't part of it...

Saturday Morning Report

I'm sitting outside on a glorious Saturday morning.  I'm sitting on an airy patio at Whole Foods, waiting for members of my book club.  It's shockingly beautiful outside - just some cirrus in the sky, temperate now but will reach the 80s this afternoon.  There's a farmer's market 50 feet from me.  I have a coffee and a pretzel roll, and I'm listening to a guy-with-a-guitar.  When I saw him drop off his equipment, I immediately figured he was going to drive me inside quickly.  But then he starts playing U2's All I Want Is You, which is one of my favorite songs.  I tell him this, so he aims to go 2 for 2.  Next on his list is The Beatles' In My Life.  Check.

At this point, I don't care if anyone shows up for book club, this is such a delightful way to spend a morning!  Some fresh fruit and chocolate-hazelnut gelato from the market might gild the lily.

On Aviation Incidents

Rest in peace, all souls from CJC3407.

Commuter aircraft get a bad rap for a wide variety of reasons.  I've long disliked prop planes, and I'm sure I can trace this back to the Roselawn ATR accident.  I know they're as inherently safe as any other tube of metal hurtling through the air, but they sure are noisy and cramped, and to be honest, I generally prefer to divorce myself from the operation of my aircraft as much as possible.  Contrast a shaky takeoff in winter in a turboprop with an impossibly smooth climb out of a tropical airport in a 767.  (It's nice to have a home airport at which I have more choices than commuter planes.)

Still, I know that air travel is really safe.  Really safe.  I have lived and used to work for years right next to airports where hundreds of planes operate without incident each day.  I can rationally examine the statistics - and my brain acknowledges it readily, as I sit here on the sofa.  Surprisingly, despite all my frequent-flier miles, I can be a bit of a panicky flier if I'm not otherwise distracted.  Even a clear-sky approach into Orlando with rising thermals and wake turbulence from other inbound aircraft makes me hold on to my seatbelt a little tighter and start praying.  Again, even though I KNOW (far more than the average flier) the reasons for the turbulence we encounter at the top of the boundary layer, I often have to consciously unclench.  It's irrational fear and I know it.  It smacks of a larger issue I've been wrestling with lately - that of trust between me and God.  I guess it's easier to trust when your feet are on solid earth, but we have no more control here on the ground than in the air.   I ROUTINELY put myself in exponentially greater danger during my 1.5-h daily commute by car.  And yet, some days, it takes a boarding pass to get me to pray?  

I was on a commuter plane a couple summers ago from EWR-DCA.  It was a smooth summer-evening flight; midway through the final turn to line up with the runway, the gear came down and it felt like all hell broke loose on this plane.  Okay, maybe not all - we felt under control after what was likely just a few seconds and most likely always under control.  The NTSB today released FDR information from 3407's final moments, which made me think of that flight.  The gear dropped and the flaps lowered and, apparently, all hell broke loose.  Popular speculation is that a combination of icing and interrupted airflow from the lowered flaps caused a tail stall.  What's interesting is that procedures for recovering from a wing stall are exactly opposite to those for recovering from a tail stall.  So in an instant, a pilot has to determine what's gone wrong and correct it, with the wrong choice ending in disaster.  I make a ton of mistakes in the course of my career, so I have a lot of respect for pilots (consummate problem-solvers), who, bearing out the statistics, get it right almost all the time.

In reference to a passenger whose flight from MSY-EWR was delayed, keeping him off the crashed plane, a contributor on an aviation forum said an experience like that would change your life forever.

I missed a flight from London this summer, with 27 students on a tour.  Surrounded by a lot of panic and upset, I was relatively calm.  Part of it was my comfort with commercial aviation procedures.  Maybe it's because I'm on the ground, but I don't usually sweat delays or missed flights, though, and I attach a lot of baggage (pun intended.  would "gravity" have been any more acceptable?) to the deliberation when opting to switch flights or stand by for another.   To know why, rewind to 25 May 1979.  

Right before my third birthday, my parents and I flew to Los Angeles for my aunt's wedding.  We were going to take United ORD-DEN-LAX, but United pilots were talking about going on strike, so my parents booked American ORD-LAX instead.  We were originally ticketed on AA191 on the day before it became the deadliest crash on US soil (prior to 2001), but then my parents decided we would fly the next day.  They figured that if we were going a day later, we should take an earlier flight.  That was to put us in the air on the flight right before 191 crashed on takeoff.  That morning, we all overslept, had a 90-minute drive to Chicago, and had to return a rental car.  By the time we got to O'Hare, we had to run through the terminal in a flat-out sprint (my parents carrying me) the whole length of the concourse to make the flight.  Otherwise, we'd have been on 191, which was our back-up reservation.  Our tickets had 191 printed on it, but crossed out and our flight number written under it - I think my parents still have it.  

He's right.  It does change your life forever.

Believe what you will about your gods.  Mine kept me off that plane.

Look, I know I'm just one in a sea of people whose planes don't crash on any given day.  But I can trust a God who orchestrates infinite events, of which I'm not even aware, to put me where I need to be.  And I don't.  I've been bought at a price and have purpose.  And I let a little fluid dynamics freak me out?

I have a wrestling match to get back to...