A decade ends and so does this

My son has been reading this blog of late. (I don't even remember everything I've written about, but I don't think I ever expected my kids to read it!). He asked me to close out the blog with the decade. It got me thinking about the past decade, the decade of moving from Japan to Ohio, from working at home to working at the college.

My son asked me why I don't write much anymore.

Writing is wonderful and hard. It's hard to get it right, to say something meaningful. It's hard to know how to make it better. Since a million people weren't salivating over the blog, it was easy to let go of it. Now, I write and rewrite a lot for my job; I am focused on teaching and telling stories in that venue.

Still, I've thought for a long time about writing a novel or script. I haven't let the idea that I've had take root, so it may float away to someone who will nurture it. Nonetheless, for now, a vague sense of it comes floating my way and then recedes from my thoughts. If I return to writing, I'd like to let this story find the space to stretch, to grow, to see where it takes me. However, I need to do research and think a lot more which takes a lot of time.

The thick of life with family, work, a few friends, means that I have to have both hope and a burning desire to write again to relentlessly pursue that story. It's scary to commit to a story idea, a world that may or may not bear fruit; it's also appalling to think that what if I don't shepherd that story? There's a part of me that thinks, it will find another author. There's a part of me that thinks, why me? There's a part of me that thinks, never say no to yourself, let the world do that, not you.

As this decade ends, my wish for you? That you never say no to you, and that the world takes whatever you give it and loves it all up!

Peace out...

Elections

I have voted absentee ballot most of my life. When I first lived on Capitol Hill in  DC, I was eating dinner at a local pub when the election results started coming in. Young hill staffers were sitting at tables with cups of beer watching the election results. As victories and losses were announced, staffers would groan, knowing they were facing job loss. Eventually shouts and calls ensued, with, “Who’s hiring!?” There are loses in every election.

After this election it occurred to me that for a long time, there has been a portion of our population that has felt left out- left out of jobs, of growth, of opportunity. Look around, you are in Appalachia where a lot of poor white people have felt left out for a long time. I’m starting to think that Trump's appeal is about populism, about standing against a political machine, and, unfortunately, I surmise that the Democrats populist candidate (Bernie) was out maneuvered by the political machine which left only one outsider, Trump.

What if Trump's election is not about his social policy, but about standing up to the political machines that have only paid lip service to those who have been left out?

An Evolution of Happiness

I just want you to be happy.
Thanks Mom. 

That felt like a ton of bricks when I went off to college. I didn’t know what would make me happy. I thought I was alone in this particular confusion, that I was born this way. There's some truth to this. Researchers at the University of Minnesota studied identical twins separated at birth and found that half of our happiness is hard wired; it’s in our genes. I’m a fairly serious, randomly funny, person that lives a messy life full of distractions, pot holes, and time warps. I would not say that I’m gentically programmed to be extremely happy, but I get that I, and you, are uniquely, genetically endowed- no other snowflake is like me or you. I thought happiness was follow this path to a good job and have a family on this timeline. However, who knew that learning the how and what it is that makes me, specifically me, happy would be so hazy.

Sometime in the mid two thousands with small babies in the house, my husband came in crowing about having heard the secret to happiness on the radio. I cocked my head.

Well?
It’s not what you think. It’s not the lottery, a powerful job, or money.
It’s two children under two?
It’s how close you live to your job!

A study had found that proximity or living close to your job, a short commute, was the key to happiness. At the time, we lived in Washington, DC, where no matter where you live, it takes forever to get where you need to go. A frustrating commute could turn a sane person crazy. From DC we would visit Athens and marvel that we could get anywhere in town in less than fifteen minutes. That moment was the set up for our intention to live some place that we could readily traverse.

My next external happiness clue came from a National Geographic story about the Blue Zones where pockets of longevity were studied that included, Loma Linda, CA, Sardinia, Italy, and Okinawa, Japan. Diets varied from vegan to Mediterranean, required no unusual exercise regimens beyond natural activities like walking but all of them had faith, family, and social networks that supported healthy behaviors. Happiness again seemed to be partly about location, a community having certain things in it.

The Harvard Grant Study which looked at a group of Harvard undergraduates over a seventy-five year period concluded that the best predictor of happiness is not the perfect job, not money, health, nor good looks, it's relationships. All you need is love.

Ok, so love and location.

The thing was, I was married, with kids, but I mostly wished I had some space, another location, from all that relating, love. Space to think in complete sentences. I missed my job where people listened to me, paid me money, and did what I said. I missed that, but not all of it, not the fifteen hour days, not eating takeout most nights, and not the just work, work, work. I wanted a better handle on my commute, my community, but also on my day to day life. I wanted to cook my own dinner. Read more books. There was something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. What else? Some big goal?

Research says one off events like getting a dream job or moving to Athens impact happiness but that these kinds of huge goals dissipate quickly which bring us to the ongoing twelve percent rooted in valuing faith, family, community, and work. 

I attend church regularly, I meditate occasionally, I work in the community frequently, and that family it keeps on loving me whether I’m happy or not, but work? Not eighty hour weeks that give us health problems. It’s co workers those social connections, but it’s also rewarding work. 

Rewarding work?

Rewarding work is about earned success, and you define how you earn this success- sales? Students taught? School lunches changed? Stories written? Films made? If you can discern your own project and discover the currency you value, work will be rewarding.

The pursuit of happiness is about discerning what makes you happy, but that is a kind of slippery thing. You have to notice what excites you. What do you love? What fuels your interest over time? Pay attention to what excites you. Notice your taste. Pay attention to your attention. I'll steal a line from Ira Glass, What make your world seem bigger, like a world you want to live in? A world with surprise? Joy? Then you have to learn to throw up the question, what's amusing to you? You have to figure out how to do this from where you are doing the work you do... so choose wisely. 

It's in your choices that you'll find your happiness, but you'll have to choose what makes you happy again and again and again. Happiness evolves.

Breathing into Being

The second I sense that I need to talk to someone in an open environment, meaning not with a specific platform, pressure enters and I sound ridiculous even to myself, or I clam up and say nothing- particularly in a group setting or party. It's exasperating! A tape plays in my head, "You're terrible at small talk, you can't do this." I get so busy listening to this con that I can't marshall my tongue to move or my brain to come up with a question. Sometimes, I practice a question beforehand, particularly for gatherings or parties, so I have some generic ice breaker at hand like, "What are your plans for the weekend, spring break, the holidays, etc." Sometimes I'm so busy playing that loser tune, even the prep question alludes my holely brain. Sometimes I stumble into meaningful conversation, but at heart I remain unsure of how to easily enter conversation about the ideas that interest me. 

Yesterday, I confessed my discomfort in asking for donations because it feels like sales- I'm terrible at sales, not a salesperson, blah, blah, blah. My friend eyed me over once and then said, "That's not true. Kim, you're very good at selling an idea you're passionate about. You've sold me before!" With that statement  and alternative perspective ringing around in my head, I went to an exhibit today that was in part in existence because I helped championed it.

Truth is I championed something because I couldn't find anyone else to do it. I asked other champions to hang with me and see what they could do with their ideas. Today I saw that the work of other people came out of that breath I was willing to blow months and months ago and realized what can happen when I half heartedly attempt to keep a beautiful thought alive- like at museum exhibit and a card game!

Now for less tape playing and more breathing... keep going!

That cool card game that got made as part of Upgrade Athens Co.

from the Discovery Museum exhibit of the Green Revolution

Knees Knockin'

When David Sedaris spoke in Memorial Auditorium last fall, I was close enough in the second row center seat to notice that he read his work with a pencil in hand. Occasionally, he scribbled something onto the papers. The audience followed Sedaris' humorous antidotes that were at times funny and at others, cringe worthy, with lots of laughs. When he opened up for questions, I shot my arm up in the air and asked something along the lines of, "What are you writing down in your notes?" He responded that when he reads, he makes notes about what works with the audience. Stunned, I sat mulling over that thought, the luxury of feedback. 

I get that some writers just want to write. It's been repeated more than a few times in my creative fiction writing class. Classmates that have to read your story three times to make sense of it, don't qualify as the average reader, but their feedback can be valuable. However, at some point I think it's normal to want someone to actually read a story you've written and, hopefully, to experience something besides boredom as a result. Getting an audiences' reaction to a piece seems like nirvana which is what motivated me to submit a short piece to Women of Appalachia.

My knees might be knocking', but I'm looking forward to seeing how the audience reacts to the stories and poems of my fellow artist and I. Please join us at Arts West on Thursday, October 22, 6:00 p.m.

Football & Food in Athens Schools

I love that this little town in the hills of Ohio, though often ignored politically, undeveloped economically, and mired in pockets of profound poverty, in the same day served the Athens City School kids Abby's winning dish for the state of Ohio school lunch contest and sent the high school football team to the State Championship game at the OSU stadium in Columbus.

We've got the food thing going on in Athens so it's no surprise that we've got budding chefs even in fourth grade. Whereas it's pretty incredible to see Athens compete with big city football programs that pull from a much larger pool of talent. Let's face it, football is a game where Goliath has the advantage.

Athens High School did not win, but it was the kind of football game that kept the fans on both sides on their feet (56 to 52) to the last seconds. For the record, and many were broken, there were more Bulldog fans. The Irish had twenty pounds and several inches on nearly every Athens player, but they did not have a quarterback with a phenomenal passing game, thus the slug fest high scoring game.

The real controversy was prompted when the school board notified parents that all Athens City Schools would have an early release followed by a delayed start. Turned out that parents, staff, and the buses were needed to get the football team and marching band up to Columbus in time for the game, but not everyone knew this information.

Being Athens, here I refer to the spirit of rebel rousing, the school board got an earful from parents august that four hours of education were being taken away before even a snow day hit for football. Nonetheless also being Athens, people listened. So a few digressed with hot air, but still people actually listened. Parent concerns were taken to heart. 

The school board explained their position in a letter and in the end took only two hours out of the school day. 

The special lunch was pulled off thanks to cooperation with the Athens City schools, Abby's family, and parent volunteers. 

The kids embraced it all.

At the game, it was cold in the stands. We were prepared-- I pulled out our ski gear. I noticed my neighbors in the stands sported hunting gear, making me feel a tad more city-mouse than I think of myself. As I watched the opposing fans cheer their Irish team from Toledo, the Athens fans rang cowbells. More cowbell! 

Still Not Asking for It

FRC, Fuck Rape Culture, held a rally at Ohio University today. The woman wearing her brassier in the interview photo below is dressed this way to bring awareness to the concept, "Still not asking for it."

The woman interviewing her came down from Kent State because there is not an active FRC type of group there. 

As students marched up Mill Street, a few hecklers spouted off from distant balconies. The FRC leader muscled her bullhorn and led the marchers with a steady stream of chants like, "Stop rape culture now." Traffic waited on the marchers as did the rain. At the base of the Civil War monument, achievements were reviewed and more was asked for the coming year,  among them was ongoing funding for SAP the Sexual Assault Prevention program-- the five year grant funding runs out this year.

No one wore duct tape that I noticed, but it was available.

Bathroom Stall Adventures

Last year for the College Town Film Festival I connected a visiting artist with an Ohio University professor. The artist, a writer with a film made about her,  was to visit the professor's class. However, she had a bout of self-doubt, "I'm not a college graduate so why should I talk to college students in an English course?" She hid in the bathroom.

That bathroom happened to be in the English building, Ellis Hall, the home of the "feminist bathroom." After reading the many supportive messages inked onto the stall walls, she went to the class and confessed what had happened. The class then took a field trip to see the bathroom wisdoms for themselves.

This year in support of the College Town Film Festival, coming October 15-18, I was dropping off materials in Ellis Hall when I found myself (unaware of where I had stumbled) in the said bathroom. My stall alerted me to check out the Sexual Assault Prevention (SAP) program across the road in the McKee House. One of the films coming on Friday, October 17 at 7:00 pm at the Athena, is "How to Loose Your Virginity," so SAP seemed like a good place to drop off a few programs.

from the Feminist Stall in Ellis Hall at OU

I trekked over, passed out a few programs, and learned all kinds of interesting things. I asked how the center was funded. It is through a grant which was applied for, "about five years ago." I applaud OU for having someone (Susanne Dietzel was mentioned) put this kind of resource into place as it shows forward thinking considering the press on sexual assaults on campuses nationwide. This afternoon, I'm headed to the Fuck Rpe Culture rally (4:00 pm Jeff Hill).  If the name of the group offends you, read this. 

Graffiti is where the disenfranchised can find a voice. If a mark on the wall of a stall can make a positive difference, I bet you can too.

Fresh off the Cob Corn Salsa

If you live in or near Ohio in the summer, fresh corn is on the menu. Over the years it has been consumed at our table, mostly, on the cob. However, my children don't eat corn like I did so there is often leftover. I'm more a fan of reusing leftovers in another dish than reheating, but whether you cut it off the cob or use frozen or canned corn kernels, this is a great way to serve corn. I used cherry tomatoes fresh from my garden in this batch.

Corn Salsa combines black beans and fresh tomatoes to make a tasty topping to Taco Rice Salad or corn chips. For me, it's really about the cumin and lime-- I'll eat most anything with that combination. Try it!

Fresh off the Cob Corn Salsa

Ingredients

Corn-- Fresh, frozen, or Canned, cooked and cooled, 1 1/2 cups

Cooked Black Beans, cooled and rinsed, 1 1/2 cups

Fresh Tomato, diced,  2 large

Sweet Onion, diced, 1 small

Fresh Cilantro, chopped, 3 Tbsp

Fresh Lime Juice, 3 Tbsp (1-2 Limes)

Ground Cumin, 1/2 tsp

Salt, 1 tsp

Directions

Prep vegetables. Toss all ingredients together in a bowl. Adjust seasoning to taste. Serve with taco rice salad or eat with Shagbark Corn Chips.

Fresh off the Cob Corn Salsa

Ohio Winner of Healthy Lunchtime Challenge

Abby Cornwell, winner of Michelle Obama's Healthy Lunchtime Challenge for Ohio, has just returned from Washington, DC, where she attended the 2014 Kid's State Dinner at the White House. Her winning entrée was Sunrise Tuscan Chicken.  There will likely be other events and opportunities that come her way. Abby told me that a guest celebrity chef from Ohio may visit her school, East Elementary, later this year!

This is a clip of our meeting about her participation in the event. A big thanks to Abby's mom, Jenny Messina,  for hosting and to Sam Girton for recording the video. It was edited by a newbie, yours truly.

Abby has been interviewed a few times in recent days:

• ABC News article 4 Reasons the Kids' State Dinner is Way Cooler than the Adult One
• The Athens Messenger on June 22, 2014
• The Athens News on June 18, 2014

Rescuing a Drunk

My husband noticed a young woman was dropped off by a car just ahead of us as we walked home from a friend's birthday celebration. Expecting her to faceplant onto the sidewalk with every lurch, I kept up a steady stream of gasps. Finally, at the top of the hill, we overtook her, but I couldn't just pass by her. Instead, I said, "Honey, you're drunk. You need to go home. Do you know where you live?" I took hold of her trying to keep her upright. She seemed to have some sense of direction so we wobbled along, me holding her, her stumbling, and my husband, uncertain, but following.

She walked out of her flipflops; I picked them up. She dropped her phone. I picked it up. I asked her where she lived again. I looked up "home" on her phone, but realized it was probably her mother's number. I asked my husband to take over holding the girl when she sprawled yet again to the ground, apparently ready to snooze. I got a voicemail on the first number on her recent call list. I looked about for inspiration. 

A couple magically appeared walking up the hill. We called out to them and asked if they recognized the young lady. They did not, but they came over for a closer look. The woman took over the cell phone while her boyfriend watched. From another direction, a young man approached. It was about eleven in the evening, but apparently college students keep late hours. "Do you recognize her," we all asked. He said, "No, but just call the last number dialed until you get someone, that's what I do when they're drunk." The woman on phone duty called the next number and the next. Caller number four answered. "Do you have an address?" She gave us the street name and told us it was near a pink and purple house. The woman on phone duty chatted a few minutes with the phone friend, ferreting out if she had roommates. The young man recognized the name of one of the roommates. "I've heard about you!" he said to the drunk young lady. I think we all wondered at that comment. It was only a block away.

Her roommates, a bunch of guys playing video games looked up, briefly." Does this look right," the woman handling the phone asked.  "Yeah," she said as she stumbled in, aiming for the sofa but instead collapsed onto the floor in a pile. No one appeared to be alarmed at how inebriated she was. The young men kept playing their game. I handed over the flip-flops. As we left, the phone lady called out, "Her friend will come by to check on her."   

If you haven't been out with stumbling drunkards in a while, apparently what you do is call the last number dialed until you get someone. Or. How about don't drink alone? Get some new friends?  Better yet, no binge drinking. 

Red Raspberry Jam

I trekked out to the Chesterhill Produce Auction where I quickly became the owner of twelve pints of raspberries. What to do with so many berries? I'm making jam! 

Raspberry seeds are a natural thickener, but to bring out the pectin naturally in the berries, first bring the berries to a simmer and then add the sugar.  

A weight scale gets consistent results versus the measuring cup method. I use a metric scale I purchased in Japan, but  the ounces are also provided.

This looks beautiful, all shiny and red, plus it tastes awesome!

Red Raspberry Jam

Adding the whole raspberries at the end of the cooking process gives you a nice chunky jam. Using the ratio of 1:2/3 cup (berries to sugar) allows the ripe fruit taste to come through.  Estimate about 2 pints of berries for 1 pint of jam. Yields 6 pint jars.

Ingredients

Fresh Ripe Organic Raspberries, 1500 gm (53 oz) = 1125 gm (40 oz) + 375 gm (13 oz)

Granulated Sugar, 1000 gm (35 oz)

Optional add 3 drops of essence of violets at the end of the cooking process 

Useful Equipment

Long handled spoon
Large heavy bottom Dutch Oven

Mesh skimmer or spoon to skim off foam and small bowl of water to dump the foam

Jars for canning with lids and bands

Canning Pot for water bath 

Directions

Place metal spoons or plate into freezer.

Wash inside and outside of canning jars with lids and bands (estimate a pint jar per two  pint of berries). Bake the open jars at 250ºF (121ºC) for 30 minutes. In a small pot over low heat, simmer the lids until needed. Lay out a clean cloth to wipe jar rims after filling. 

Pick over the fruit and discard any unripe berries, stems, leaves, critters, or mold. Fill a bowl with water and swish the berries around-- prevents damage from the faucet's stream to the delicate fruit. Arrange in a single layer on a paper towel-lined baking sheet to prevent bruising and dry.

Set aside a quarter of the berries, 375 gm (13 oz), near the stove to add at the end.

In a large heavy bottom pot with a wide rim such as a dutch oven over low heat, add berries, 1125 gm (40 oz). Occasionally sitr to soften the fruit and draw out the pectin until it comes to a simmer,  5 to 7 minutes.

Continuing over low heat, add the sugar and stir into berries until dissolved, 1 to 2 minutes.

Increase heat (medium high to high depending on the heat source) to boil rapidly. Stir frequently to prevent sticking, until the jelling point is reached, 15 to 20 minutes- see the next step below. Skim foam off the top as needed. 

After 15 minutes begin to test for the jelling point by placing a bit of the hot jam onto a spoon or plate from the freezer. If the jam runs, continue to cook and recheck after a minute, if the jam runs in a sheet and crinkles when pushed up, the jelling point has been reached.

Add remaining whole berries. Return to boil on high until translucent and just hold their shape, 1 to 3 minutes. Remove pan from heat. Let jam settle. Skim off any foam, being careful not to disturb the jam underneath. Allow to cool and thicken to let the whole fruit pieces to remain disbursed, about 10 to 12 minutes.

Ladle warm jam into clean sterilized jars with a 1/4-inch of head space. Wipe rims with clean damp cloth. Apply lids and seal with bands-- tighten bands to just finger tight. 

Place jars in a pot with a rack and enough water to cover the jars by about an inch. Bring water to boil and process for 5 minutes. Start the timer when the water begins to boil. Refer to manufacturers instructions for specific canning details for either the waterbath or oven method. 

Remove jars from water and place on surface to cool (wood, folded cloth, newspapers, silicon mat, etc.). Tighten the bands. Allow to sit undisturbed for 24 hours until cool. With a permanent marker, label the lids with the date and contents. 

Check the seals the following day. Any unsealed jars must be used within a few days and stored in the fridge. Store jars in a cool dry place. Use jam within 1 year.

At the Table

Use jam with bread, sandwiches with brie, french toast, oatmeal, yogurt, scones, waffles, salad dressing, etc.

Reddest Raspberry Jam with Seeds

Working at the Car Wash

The Girl Scouts washed cars today so I washed cars today and vacuumed them and cleaned them. It was a bright sunshiny day for it with lots of soap and water. After three hours of car washing, the girls were tired. My daughter said of the event, "It was long." The Athens VFW was an awesome host and only the best folks in Athens came for a car wash today-- thank goodness for generous people with dirty and not so dirty cars!

Working at the Car Wash with the Girl Scouts

Jr Chefs

My moment of glory was teaching the junior chefs at the Athens Farmers Market today. We suited up in aprons. I laid out the plan, and then we strolled the market to shop for vegetables. Our menu was quick pickles and rice balls. The kids found something from every vegetable vender at the market from purple cauliflower to cherry tomatoes to sweet onions. They wanted fresh dill and sharper knives. They packed their jars full of vegetables and then ate them. Well, one little girl waited for her mother to return before she would even taste any of it. She was so proud of her colorful jar of veggies. The rice ball making was a bit more challenging-- they looked more like smashed burgers than firmly pressed rice balls. However, one of the kiddos got a cash offer for his jar of vegetables. He did not part with it.

It was pretty awesome to work with kid foodies.

Jr Chefs at the Ahens Farmers Market

Dinner in a Box?

More than once, women friends have mentioned the desire for or the use of dinner in a box services (The Blue Apron, Peach Dish, Plated). I haven't ever used one, but I get the appeal for this kind of service. This isn't dinner in a box as in preserved processed food, but as in proportioned ingredients, with a recipe, sent to your home to alleviate the grunt work of kitchen duty. 

The service costs money and is mostly available in larger cities, but it adds variety and fresh food to the diet that can be a welcome respite at the end of a weary day when kitchen duty beckons. 

The lure-- eating healthy, tasty food, made of fresh local ingredients with a plan but also options for improv. Oh, I get that dream-- the pleasure of cooking at home so it's super fresh, hot, and builds your cooking skills and kitchen repertoire, but no shopping or thinking required-- just a cook with a plan and ingredients. I have to think about ways to use produce, add vegetables, avoid the same meal rut, and I sense that I'm not alone.

With the abundance of awesome fresh ingredients, chefs, and purveyors of meats, vegetables, fruits, beers, wines, cider, meads, salsas, pickles, sauces, crackers, grains, beans, cheeses, and pasta, in Athens, the missing link is the combiner of things into an easily transportable basket, box, etc., so that it can be picked up or delivered. It seems like an idea whose time has come.

I see a business opportunity, maybe only a small business opportunity, for those who want to go home at the end of the day, pour a beverage and cook dinner without the running around for last minute ingredients, grocery shopping, and then to enjoy the beauty of one's own home and table. 

Intrigued? Interested in the idea? I am.

Within and Beyond, Safe Travels

A friend is heading off to the wild blue yonder not for a job, the reason most people I know move, but to see what lies beyond the confines of the hills that surround us— the thrill of adventure calls. 

Once upon a time I was hellbent on departing just as now, I’m hellbent on staying. “There’s no place like home,” has long been my mantra wherever I’ve lived and even when I’ve clearly not been a local— Spain, Bahrain, and Japan. I longed for those adventures and needed them to stretch my tolerance, appreciation, and widen my radar of awareness. Things that are you versus other are more obvious when you are outside of them. There even comes a day when you can’t return to a certain way of living or thinking— the confines of racism or the shackles of sexual repression come to mind-- they are embedded in some places but not in others. 

In some ways living abroad made me hyper aware of how American I was in terms of language, my approach to authority, and in daily rituals like meals. New experiences that touched undeveloped longings in me, were embraced with a sureness that some might have seen as adapting to another culture, but for me it was the centrality of the human experience that helped me to see with new eyes or to embrace something missing in my own cultural experiences, a new way home.

I face the task now of integrating seemingly random experiences from different cultures into one way of being which also changes with circumstance and other experiences like parenting, missteps, and new found joys. I picked a place to do this that has a mix of people rooted in other places and so it is tolerant with the roundabout approach to local ways. It is also a place with traditions and ways that rub and press in upon me both good and bad. However, I don’t have to go to say Italy to find my way to things I love or to let go of things I don't. Finally or at least more often, I can see at home what I once could only notice when I was away. I brought new eyes home.

The food front is an easy obvious place to explore. 

Travel means tasting new foods and combinations, so I did. From dancing shrimp on a table in Japan to grilled sparrow in Lebanon to roast bear in Russia, it’s enough to make a woman go vegetarian even if she doesn’t live in the hills of Ohio dotted with hippies. Sometimes I longed for American breakfasts of hash browned potatoes and omelets or particularly the comfort of milk tea and toast with butter and jam especially when faced with a breakfast of steamed rice and grilled fish or ful medames. Food is a universal and yet a local experience, but don’t mess with breakfast too many days in a row or you’ll find you revert to childhood. Meanwhile, food trends in America follow headlines like a tennis match— gluten free, thwack, low carb, unhh, vegan, sloomph!  You can go anywhere in a kitchen which is probably why I've found myself spending more time in my own kitchen over the years. There are other coves of discovery, but for now food is the easiest to share.

As my friend stretches outward, I seek to stretch inward-- to notice the subtle signs that call me. Adventures beckon us from both within and beyond. Safe travels wherever you are called! 

Upgrade Athens

Chris Chmiel has a clever, fun, and yet meaningful way to engage Athenians in saving energy-- playing a game for five million dollars! What's not to love? We loose, we still reduce our energy habit. We win, $$$.

The trick is to get everyone to play and to play in earnest. For details on the game, see the Georgetown University Energy Prize (GUEP). The application is due in days. If we get selected, the game starts 1 January, 2015. There is loads to do in the meantime so put on your thinking cap!

My five freezing winters in Japan made me value things like insulation, double paned windows, and the need to squeeze every bit of warmth possible from yen spent on fuel. Living through a nuclear meltdown, also in Japan, made me aware of the costs of energy in so many more ways. So, life experience makes me an easy sell. I'm guessing we need to figure out how to reach the less receptive crowd to win this game. Like most adventures in life, the fun is in the doing, the connecting, and the just seeing how the bar can be moved.

When I listened to Chris' presentation, he made the point that the most obvious impact on energy consumption, is to focus on energy efficiency. How efficient are you? It's time to get an energy audit.

Here's the spiel he sent me about the next stage:

If GUEP approves the application, Athens County will move into the Stage 2 (July-November, 2014) development of an action plan for 2015-2016.  The plan must specify how we will work together to reduce utility use in residences, public buildings and schools throughout the county.  Of particular interest will be efforts to provide resources and information to residents that help reduce or control rising household utility costs.  This effort will engage an array of partners, including local schools and higher education institutions, private businesses, non-profit organizations and local technical expertise.

To help county residents, businesses and organizations current with competition activities, the initial planning committee is developing a web site:  http://athensguep.org.  

Consider where you can help Athens upgrade-- home, work, school, church, institution? Individuals could start here-- Thousand Home Challenge. I'm wondering about someone's nightlight? It might be a good idea to schedule a home energy audit (Columbia Gas 1-877-644-6674).

Zipsicles

I spent day outside in the sun and on the hills sweating with a Girl Scout troop hike.

I wanted to bring popsicles for an after-hike treat. This got me thinking about popsicle molds versus wrappers. I went in search of plastic wrappers and found zipsicles online at Amazon. You fill them with juice or fruit, stash them in the freezer upright, and then once frozen, take them where needed to be consumed (cool packs were used).

The day before the hike I unexpectedly had to spend the day at Boy Scout Camp so I texted my resident Girl Scout and asked her to make the popsicles. She rummaged through the shelves and stock and made a variety of flavors including barley tea, mango juice, and Blue Hawaii. She liked using the zipsicle bags and requested that everyone return the wrappers so that she could wash and reuse them.

They aren't ideal, thanks to the plastic waste, but they do work for events like a day hike and they were the perfect treat on a hot and sweaty day! Using our own juice and fruit was so much better than eating food dye and high fructose corn syrup.

Here's to a popsicle summer!

Eat Your Weeds

After returning from RAW Movement Day Camp, my child went into the yard and returned with a handful of what I knew as a garden weed. She prompted me to eat it. It's tart and rather astringent but pleasant. My kiddo is so pleased with herself! The edible weed? Sorrel. Add some to a green salad or with a side of eggs and toast.

Sorrel (wild) from the yard

The Village Bakery & Strawberry Bruschetta

While touring local food places around Athens, Ohio, as part of Real Food, Real Local, I got to see behind the scenes of some of the local kitchens where I sometimes eat.

The Village Bakery and Della Zona owners served up bruschetta with strawberries drizzled with balsamic and basil. It was quick, in season, and delicious. This appetizer was a refreshing taste of summer in an unexpected combination. Try it! The oil can be purchased at the Village Bakery along with a loaf of bread.

Strawberry Bruschetta

Ingredients
Sliced Strawberries
Fresh Torn Basil Leaves
Olive Oil
Balsamic Vinegar
Fresh loaf of sourdough sliced

Slice bread and berries. Arrange berries and torn basil over the bread slices. Drizzle with oil and vinegar. Eat!

Behind the Scenes at Village Bakery and Della Zona