Under a Red Roof

Guest Blogger G: “Rose Colored Glasses”

July 24, 2009 in Admiring, Being, Giving, Learning, Loving, Receiving, Thinking by Colleen | 2 comments

Mount Hood is always a good photo to play with

Colleen and I are often “accused” of having rose colored glasses on. It used to be something I felt guilty for, as if I didn’t have a grasp on reality. I now view this ‘trait’ as something to embrace since there are many events in life beyond my control. Sometimes the only thing I do have the ability to shape is my view. Colleen is fond of saying “I’m not driving this bus”, and I agree.

A shift in perspective can be a powerful thing. As I look back over the past year and a half, it has been a little bit of a roller coaster and I thought I would share some of my hospital reflecting…

Colleen’s Surgery

This was a fairly serious body change for Colleen and obviously at the forefront of our lives at the moment. With the amount of endometriosis, it is probably one of the more invasive hysterectomies that a person can have. (Actually, the hysterectomy was a small part of the procedure. Think trying to free up taffy growing inside you that has been twisting your organs for 20+ years.)

With glasses: I have a lot of hope that Colleen will feel a good sense of freedom from the abdominal issues that she has suffered with. After all, the whole point is of all this is to make things better than they are now. I’m hopeful she will enjoy her time in Colorado without having to worry about serious cramping and pain this September. From a “me” perspective, the event has been a great chance to be able to help someone I love who can’t help herself. It is a great gift to be able to make a difference in her recovery and feel that much closer to her.

Job Changing/Economic “crisis”

I have changed positions three times in the last year, gone from having a large chunk of vacation to having to fight to get a chance to help Colleen for a day or two, and taken a fairly significant financial hit.

With glasses:I now work for a functional company with people I enjoy being around. My commute is smaller. I am not making as much and not as able to save as much, but a good portion of the 401k savings went up in smoke anyway! My work is much more varied now and I really enjoy this variety. My boss and colleagues are pleasant and I feel a strong desire to truly help the company I work for grow and improve. I find myself very content and intrigued with the possibilities that the future holds.

It is certainly not always easy to find a positive perspective on perceived ‘bad’ situations but I have enjoyed the challenge and awareness that comes from the search.

I think I will put my glasses on now and rest near my lovely wife as she does some healing…

Tags: Endometriosis

Taste of Cherry

May 29, 2009 in Spotlighting, Thinking, Watching by Colleen | 1 comment

This past weekend we watched Taste of Cherry, a splendid Iranian film from director Abbas Kiarostami. The story follows a man Mr. Badii (masterfully played by Homayon Ershadi) on what may be his last day of life. He is on a quest to find a man willing to place the final shovelfuls of soil over his body after he commits suicide.

It is a very meditative film with long stretches of time spent with Badii as he drives and drives his Range Rover through the streets of Tehran and the surrounding hillsides, searching for just the right man. Over the course of the day, he finds men of various ages, nationalities, and beliefs about suicide, and attempts to sway them into his favor. You need not worry; there is little repetition in this, as the various conversations form a single thoughtful narrative.

As someone who has suffered from suicidal bouts since the fourth grade, I could appreciate the steadiness of Badii’s desire to end his life as well as the longing to meet it with a certain dignity. Perhaps it is also why, when I asked Gregory if he would do as Badii requested and he said “No,” I already knew, without question, that I would. I know that pain. That being said, this, for me, was ultimately an uplifting and hopeful film, for isn’t it marvelous when you can connect with the right person at just the right time? I think so.

Millions of Peaches and a Little Problem

May 21, 2009 in Cooking + Baking, Thinking by Colleen | 3 comments

I love that song by The Presidents of the U.S.A. I also considered Blame it on Peaches as a title, a nod to the the movie Blame It On Rio. I’ve only seen bits of it with a very young Demi Moore in a bikini and Michael Caine sporting what looks like a tight perm. What is it with the 80’s and perms anyway? I’m not judging, as I had my fair share of them (done at home with neon pink and blue rollers). I’m just wondering why we thought this was a good idea.

As you can see by the photos, this post is not about music, the 80’s, or perming one’s hair. It’s about PIE, and to be precise, peach meringue pie, the hubster’s favorite that I make. I like it, too. I wish I could remember where I first saw a description of a pie like this, but I can’t. I do remember being excited to go home and make my own, however. Now you can, too. Here’s how it goes:

Peach Meringue Pie

Crust

Buy or make your favorite pie crust, enough to line a tart pan or a 9″ pie plate. I’m rather partial to Martha Stewart’s recipe from her classic book Pies and Tarts. I love a buttery crust. Cut a piece of parchment large enough to fit the pan with a bit of overhang then fill with pie weights or dry beans (I keep a container of them expressly for this purpose). Bake at 450 degrees for 8 minutes. Remove the parchment and beans as carefully as you can – the paper will likely brown and turn very brittle, like mine did. As well, and as you can see, it will be hard to get everything out without spilling the beans, tee hee! Bake an additional 5-6 minutes, or until golden. Cool.

1-2 tablespoons chocolate chips

Melt the chocolate chips. I put them in a metal measuring cup over low heat on the stove top. It goes pretty quickly. Brush the melted chocolate over the pie crust, though not on the exposed edge. This helps prevent the custard from softening the crust. Don’t worry, you won’t be able to taste the chocolate. Though, if this worries you, white chocolate chips are certainly an option.

Filling (make while the crust bakes)

2 tablespoons corn starch

1/3 cup sugar

2 cups milk

3 egg yolks, beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 teaspoon butter

Mix the corn starch, sugar, and milk together in a medium saucepan over medium heat, stirring constantly until the mixture starts to thicken and bubble. Cook another two minutes and remove from heat. Mix 3/4 of a cup of the hot milk into the egg yolks. Pour back into the pan, mix well, and return to the heat, stirring until it bubbles again. Cook another two minutes, remove from the heat, and stir in the vanilla and butter. Sometimes I like to add a little powdered ginger here. It is a wonderful complement to peaches. Allow to cool.

Meringue

1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

1 teaspoon vanilla

3 egg whites

6 tablespoons sugar

Beat the egg whites, cream of tartar, and vanilla together until the mixture starts to form mounds. Add a tablespoon or two of sugar at a time, thoroughly incorporating it before adding more. If you add too much too soon, it will be runny and unusable. When you are finished, it will be thick and glossy beautiful!

2 -3 peaches, sliced

Though I used some left over compote this time, I usually line the crust with fresh peaches. Top with the cooled pudding then the meringue, making sure you get it to the edge, so it won’t shrink while baking.

Bake at 350 for fifteen minutes or until golden brown. Though it will be very tempting, allow to cool before serving. Enjoy!

Now to address my little problem or the emperor’s new clothes, so to speak, me and this durn sugar addiction. I’ve eaten it twice this week! Once for Bunco – I made a delicious buttermilk bundt cake with a praline glaze and peach compote (hence the left overs) and this pie. I can’t invite people over without giving them sweets, thus requiring me to buy ingredients and bake a cake. Since I had the leftover flour, sugar, and compote, hate being wasteful, and know how much the hubster loves this pie, I could think of no other logical conclusion but to make it and eat one slice. Would Spock be proud or look at me in wild wonder? Gosh, I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’d enjoy a slice of pie or cake while we discuss it. Alas, I’ll take it day by day. There is always tomorrow.

Oh yes, I can’t forget to say – Happy Birthday Sarah and Becky! Happy Anniversary Bridget and Eric! You’re all wonderful people who bring the best kind of sweetness into my life…

Melancholy or Maybe Not

March 18, 2009 in Being, Feeling, Thinking by Colleen | 2 comments

Hello friends –

I hope your day is going well. It is a beautiful one here, sunny and warm enough to have the windows open, cats lying in various belly exposing prostrations. Very nice.

I wish my disposition were more like the weather, to be frank. I am a little melancholy thinking about yesterday – the one year anniversary of the completion of my novel, Polite Society. It is a bit strange to think that I finished it that long ago. The worst bit, and the one getting me down, is the fact that none of the many agents or publishers I submitted my work to has opened their doors to me, grabbed me by the shoulders in utter delight and said, “This is great! Let’s get it published!”

However, as I sit with this and wonder what it really means, what I really want, I’m not so sure. I finished a novel. I really did, one that makes me proud and giggly at the same time. That fact will never change. As for what I want, sometimes I think it is money. Other times, I think it is about having people read what I believe is a magical story.

Speaking to the money part, I have never made much, ever. Most of the time, I am okay with this. Other times, like today, I only look at myself in disappointment that I’m not contributing financially to our household. That being said, when I was working for a dollar, I wasn’t very happy, actually quite crabby, a little bitchy, and awfully whiny. Writing, however, I really like. I love the conversations in my head, the accumulation of words and ideas. Oh yes, I like it very much.

Why then, do I get so hung up on this? Being happy is much better than having a paycheck. Besides, how would having more money change my life, anyway? Greg and I already live comfortably. We spend wisely and have no debt besides our mortgage. We travel, watch movies, eat good food, give to charity. What else do I want?

For a while, I thought it was a house in the country, but have since realized that, social girl that I am, I would be a bit lonely. As for our house, maybe we would finally get our bathroom refinished. It is old and quite ugly. The carpet upstairs isn’t it the best shape, and the basement isn’t finished. So I guess I would like those things to be done, but I can’t say my quality of life would be drastically improved should this happen.

Now about people reading my work. That’s already been done by several friends and some strangers. (An aside here, my friend Maria did a great job of finding many, many typos here recently, some of which I had already corrected, many not. I am very grateful.) Anyway, everyone likes it, and I don’t believe any of them to be liars.

I guess the real problem is my silly head. The only time I feel upset is when I start comparing myself to other people or idealized versions of myself. In the grand scheme of things, I am the only one who can make me happy, ever. No amount of people reading my book, money, or success can change this, not one bit.

Oh goodness, finally, I am smiling. More money and a popular novel might make my bathroom look nice, take me on a book tour, and give me a slot on the New York Times best seller list, but it won’t give me what I already have: a wonderful marriage, a great home in a city that I love, good friends, cute and cuddly cats, the list goes on.

I think what is really on order is a bit of patience and some kindness toward myself. There is no rush here. If the doors open, I’ll be delighted. If not, I’ve already got it pretty good. Thanks for listening to me work it through.

Talus then Light in the Dark

March 15, 2009 in Feeling, Thinking by Colleen | 1 comment

In a perfect world, this post would be a short film. You would see me lying in bed, eyes dark with the fatigue of my thoughts, deep in conversation with the hubster. The soundtrack would be “Come to Me” by Bjork. Do it if you can. See me, hear my voice, put on the music.

I’ve always been a pretty introspective person. I listen, sometimes too well, to the world, my inner thoughts and feelings, analyze them, ponder how to move forward. Usually, it is a seamless process and I move like a leaf drifting joyously in the current. Other times, I feel more like I am tumbling hard down a talus slope where certain death awaits me.

At these times, I find more questions than answers, none of them easy. I look at my life, deeds, and words and make a vain attempt to piece together something valuable from a collection of days that seem so insignificant. Is this how everyone feels, but only few share it?

Then, as grace would have it, I got an answer. My friend Bridget e-mailed me, saying this afternoon felt like one for a movie, so we headed over to the Laurelhurst to see Synecdoche, NY. The story touched a place deep in me, almost like I was hearing for the very first time, so much so, that I took my notebook and pen from my purse and wrote my impressions (thank you Charlie Kaufman!). Yes, I was the kooky lady scribbling furiously in the dark, yet in the light, for all the questions of my day, and these past few days, were illuminated. Here’s what I wrote:

Maybe this is what we do? We construct what we think is. Our life is composed of sets, real and imagined. We play parts, but are any of them the real versions of ourselves?

Things happen over and over again. Is it penance or just a pattern to be repeated? We love, suffer, feel lonely, experience joy and wonder.

Can we construct our reality beforehand, make the set what we desire?

Are we dead or not yet born?

We compress memories and shift time.

Do we come to a point at which we drift, someone else’s hand at our back, gently guiding us, giving us our words? Is this happening now?

I got answers and questions, but mostly a sense of relief. Yes, Colleen, we all do this, in similar and vastly different ways. You will encounter these questions again, but that is what life is, and until someone whispers “Die” into your ear, you can make it what you like.