My Mother's Hands

I was going to a Friendsgiving dinner, and volunteered to make a pumpkin pie. I made a pumpkin pie from scratch one other time, and it turned out perfectly, with little hand-cut leaves adorning it and a good crust. Another time, I made chocolate pie and the crust was overworked and tough.

I didn't have a pie tin.

It was time to call in reinforcements.

My mum makes the best pie, ever. I've talked a lot about the Homemade Pie Kitchen in Lousiville, Kentucky-- they have a Dutch caramel apple pie that is divine, but it will not outdo my mum's pie (ask Shelley-- she craves Mum's pie all year).

The crust is flaky and a perfect golden shade, with crimped edges. The pumpkin filling is not overpowering. She puts pie crust leaves on top, adorned with cinnamon and sugar (something she used to free hand but now uses a cookie cutter for-- why not?). She did this before the cutesy fads of Pinterest, Food Network, or Youtube and Facebook videos made everyone who wasn't putting on an episode of Martha Stewart Living for each meal feel somehow inferior.

I was at my mum's yesterday, borrowing a pie tin and expecting some guidance on making a pie, and she ended up making it for me. Gently moving me aside, she mixed the crust, not overworking it, and then rolled it out with an old wooden rolling pin. As she began her technique for pinching the edges to form her tell-tale look, I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture. She asked if it was to remember the technique, and I said no.

"I have peasant hands," she said. Totally deadpan, and I cracked up. She has small hands with little fingers, and those hands aren't the lily white hands of someone who has never done any work. They are, however, something more.

Her hands are the hands that tirelessly brushed and braided my hair until I could manage it on my own.

They are the hands that held mine as I learned to walk, write, feed myself.

Her hands are the hands that made dinner every night, and baked hundreds of cookies every Christmas as a way to stay close to her mother, who I never met.

Her hands created I Dream of Jeannie's hat for my Halloween costume out of a sour cream container, or magic wands for me, my sister, and the kids in the neighborhood with pencils, ribbon, and Pringles lids.

Her hands made magic with money that was barely there in order to feed us, clothe us, house us, and still give us Christmas presents and birthday cakes and little things here and there.

Her hands folded together to pray and teach me to do the same-- to ask for grace, to be thankful for what we had, to bless the people in our lives.

Her hands reached out and felt my forehead when I wasn't feeling well, checking for a fever before whipping up chicken soup with dumplings.

Her hands clapped hardest for me when I walked across the stage to get my diplomas, particularly the first master's one. She was the only one there for me that day, but I got that degree as much for her as for me-- it was our moment, anyway, one we could both be proud of, and when I saw her beaming and clapping for me, no one else mattered anyway.

So yes, her hands are small and "peasanty" as she says, but they are beautiful and tell a million stories and will tell a million more. Oh, and the pie turned out great too.

28 Things I've Learned

My birthday was nearly two weeks ago, and in the midst of candles and balloons and a giant fruit basket and my favorite dinner ever (chicken penne gorgonzola-- thanks Mum!), I was feeling very reflective, as one does during birthdays. As such, I decided to write a post about things I've learned over the course of my life so far. Twenty-eight things, to be exact-- things that, whether good or bad, have shaped me.

1) Be kind-- it is the simplest gift you can give, both to yourself and to others.

2) Be thankful for what you have-- no matter how bad things seem, it could always be much, much worse.

3) Music is good for the soul. It elates you when you're already happy, it's cathartic when you need a good cry, and playing music/singing makes me more overjoyed than I could explain.

4) This world is a beautiful place-- take care of it. It's really not hard to throw away trash or make an effort to conserve a little bit.

5) Reading is the window to the world. You may not be able to afford to travel, but by opening a book and immersing yourself in its pages, you'll still see the world.

6) Sarcasm is a way of life.

7) I still hate coffee...and mashed potatoes.

8) I haven't found a better substitute for deep thinking than a long run outdoors.

9) Not everyone is going to like you, and that's okay. The people who do are the ones who matter.

10) I used to think changing the world had to be BIG and all at once. Now I see that we can all change our small corner of the world, a bit at a time, and if we try, it can make a difference.

11) Writing is my favorite form of self-expression, followed closely by art and music.

12) You're never as broken as you seem, and the people who matter are the ones who carry you through murky waters.

13) Taking time for yourself is so important, even if it's only a few moments a day, or if you're rocking out to music while you're drying your hair and singing into your hairbrush.

14) No one is ever that busy-- take some time to put down your phone, unplug, and just be. 

15) My sister gets me in a way no one else ever has-- having a solid relationship with someone who has known you your entire life is so, so important.

16) My mum is everything I want to be.

17) Take good care of yourself-- wash your face, wear sunscreen, floss... you only get one body.

18) Drink water, all day, every day.

19) God is so incredibly good-- take time to appreciate all He has given you.

20) Teaching is an important profession-- it's not just English or math or social studies. You have access to the secret lives of 130 kids at a time, and in addition to imparting knowledge on them in a basic sense, you also get to help mold them into decent human beings with a respect for one another and the world around them. It's pretty cool.

21) True, unconditional, soulmates-level love is real. I've witnessed it, and I've experienced it.

22) Compromise is essential in any type of relationship-- it's essential to listen to one another.

23) If I didn't have Shelley/my mum over the course of my life to provide cooked meals, I would just eat cereal/salads forever. I despise cooking.

24) You control who is and who isn't a part of your life. Eliminate negativity. It doesn't matter if someone has been in your life for 10 years or is related to you or anything else-- if you are unhappy, you can change that. Furthermore, there are friends and family members worth holding on to. Appreciate them and make sure they know.

25) I spent nearly 12 years working in the service industry, and 7 of those years were at the same place. When you go out to eat, just sit in the booth you're given-- you aren't moving in, it's an hour meal. Be considerate-- you are going out to be served food, not to treat people like they are your servants. And if you are going out, tip. Oh, and no speakerphone in public-- no one wants to hear your conversations. If you don't know how to be respectful and kind, just stay home, please.

26) Do one nice thing every single day-- even if it is as simple as paying a compliment or holding a door. A smile makes a world of difference.

27) I've always marched to the beat of my own drum, but when I was younger I had moments when I wished I wasn't QUITE so original. Being unique is awesome-- don't ever change or compromise who you are to fit a societal mold. You are wonderfully, fearfully made. BE YOURSELF.

28) Life is beautiful, but it is also brief. Being in shape or on time or the most popular person on social media is not as important as being happy and enjoying the ride. Cake is good. Buy the book or the shirt. Go on the trip. Cliche or not, you'll always regret not experiencing something wonderful over skipping out so you could work out or play around on Snapchat.

Truffles, The Variety Pack, and a Perfectly Poached Egg

It's been a crazy two weeks. So much has happened and I am left emotionally drained at the end of it-- like "sitting at home in a hoodie and shorts on Saturday night" drained. There is a breeze, so that's nice. This past week was also Valentine's Day-- or in my case, Valentine's Week.

Some remnants of The Dessert Disaster

In spite of the tumultuousness that was the month of February thus far, Shelley succeeded in taking the term "sweetheart" to a new level. Monday, our bunny Zorro got neutered, we had our nephew Trent for a couple days, and by the time the surgeries and child drops were over it was 9:30 at night, and I had to make a treat for school the next day (I'm a teacher (one of many hats)). Shells suggested this cream cheese and Oreo mixture dipped in chocolate. The plan was to shape them like hearts, dip them in white chocolate dyed pink, and call it a day. The dessert missed the memo. My white chocolate covered Oreo truffles were a major fail-- although my girlfriend tried not to laugh at them, a chuckle escaped as she pulled me into the living room to finish watching Nick be a skeeze ("The Bachelor" is our guilty pleasure).

Broken Hearts 

When I woke up in the morning, she got up with me, went downstairs, and had the idea to cut the sad hearts into squares, cleverly call them Broken Hearts, and serve them that way. They still tasted delicious, for the record, as was evidenced by the fact that they were gone nearly instantly. My co-workers also loved the name.

As I had night class Tuesday, we passed our celebration to Wednesday. She came home from work with groceries and a bouquet of flowers-- beautiful flowers-- chrysanthemums, daisies, carnations, roses, morning glories...  Not just a bouquet of roses or carnations or something. I felt like a child as I exclaimed, "You got me the variety pack!" Wow, nice reaction Rebecca.

The Variety Pack

Then, she prepared dinner. She is a chef in every sense of the word: creative, random, anal, and arrogant (about her food)-- but she has every reason in the world to be, as anyone who has eaten a meal she's made knows. The meal is one that, when it was initially described to me, had me raising an eyebrow-- smoked salmon with sweet potato hash and orange rind, hollandaise sauce, and, quote "a perfectly poached egg". This has since become my favorite meal, paired with a nice Reisling. I received this meal on plates I had said I liked once when we were out-- surprise #2 for me.

The meal was followed by the most sinfully decadent dessert I've ever had. I requested a chocolate cheesecake, something rich, and of course it exceeded any dream: chocolate crust (keeping with the Oreo trend), vanilla and chocolate swirled cheesecake, topped with chocolate ganache (which, as my co-worker Julie said, could make a napkin taste good).

My decadent dessert  on pretty plates 

The dessert's leftovers got taken to work, where my colleagues proceeded to call this cooking and cleaning love of mine "a unicorn" because someone who prefers to do those things is such a rarity. We got a good laugh out of that later.  

The next day, I had a doctor's appointment and I was nervous about it. When I came home (all is well), she had bought me a bigger bookshelf, white like I wanted, and assembled it in my studio alongside a lamp in my favorite color. Finally, a place to house my books. I mentioned offhand that I needed to get one next time we were out, and then it was here. Cut to her detailing my car, Arlandria, this afternoon in the beautiful sunshine, as I sit on the driveway and do my homework and smile because it's adorable. 

The thing of it is, I don't think any of these actions had anything to do with the fact that there was a holiday indicating these things should happen. Instead, this is just how you behave when you love someone. I felt I should mention this because I am not a chef, nor am I particularly good at gifts that aren't memory-type gestures (most notably a trip to the Panthers stadium), but I use my words well and make every attempt to utilize that gift to show people when I appreciate them too.

I went through an angsty phase when I was younger where I tried (key word there) to hate Valentine's Day as a ripoff, money-making, generic pile of garbage. While the "Galentine" phenomenon this year (insert eye roll here) almost brought the angst back, it didn't, because I just love love, in all of its many forms. I love my mum, who was my first valentine. I love my sister. I love all the friends I have made over the course of my life, my other family members, my bunny, and--duh-- my girlfriend. I think the holiday has become overrun with excessive gift giving like it's Christmas, or the pressure to do it perfectly with an expensive meal and lingerie and all of that. I keep it nostalgic-- homemade valentines, some flowers, and the words to represent all the love in my heart. The holiday is all about LOVE, and that is truly something to be celebrated in a world where it seems to so often be forgotten.