tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-230501632024-03-12T22:21:32.895-07:00POST-ATHEISTA hymn to philosophy, theology, deconstruction, conversation and hope.
<br>or, "I <i>so</i> don't believe in nothing!"</br>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.comBlogger220125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-28964051629294329032023-09-12T07:28:00.003-07:002023-09-12T07:28:16.376-07:00Instant Pot Mashed Potatoes<p> https://pinchofyum.com/instant-pot-mashed-potatoes</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Jamiebear rocked the shit out of this one!</p>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-71958881901838056972023-07-25T13:17:00.005-07:002023-08-08T15:49:51.080-07:00On Barbie<p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I’m a little emotionally fragile right now; that’s usual
after a big dentist day. (One that included a NYC rite of passage: somehow
landing oneself on the one 6 train car without a/c.) It’s been a day, and it’s
only noon.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The funeral for Elise Finch, my favorite meteorologist,
plays on the television, the church music and preaching timbre of the eulogy
already bringing up a well of feelings related to my past.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And then I read one of Bethany’s posts about little girls
and toys and more critical rites of passage.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">---<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I didn’t expect the conversation about the Barbie movie to
trigger so much memory and emotion.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m a little surprised to discover that Barbie played such a
large role in my coming-of-age story. Fair warning: this is a tough one.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When my parents split up, the bank took <i>our </i>dream
home, the two-story log house nestled on a wooded two-acre lot in the country
that my uncle designed and built for us. My dad had taken my brother, and we
didn’t know where they were. The day that we moved out was apocalyptic and
marked by immense loss and fear. I was fourteen years old when my maternal
family came over on a hot June day to help my mom, my sister, and me move out. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The day before, my mom had forced me to accept a last-minute
invite go to to Six Flags with my ex-boyfriend, a primitive Baptist who was
actively trying to woo me back. When I got home, exhausted and pissed off, my
dog was gone. Mom had used this “opportunity” to take Tippy to the pound,
hoping to avoid any theatrics on my part (and boy did that backfire; I had been
under the impression that Tippy was going to live at my grandparents’ farm).
Hey, I was a sensitive kid. It’s taken me a lifetime to work out my resentment
for that choice she made during a really, really fucking difficult time.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">During the process of moving, something went wrong when they
disconnected the washing machine, and brown, iron-rich water flooded the first
floor, ruining the carpet and creating dangerous conditions. It was a hazardous
mess, and they had to flip the breakers to turn off the electricity. Junebugs
got in through the open doors -- buzzing around, divebombing our beverages, and
generally working to tip up our tempers as the heat indoors soared while we
trudged furniture and boxes out.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My family burned bag
after bag of trash on the open fire pit out back, the air peppered with the
terrifying sounds of aerosol cans exploding at random. It felt like a war zone,
and by the time the day was done I was relieved to leave it all behind.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was going to start high school in the Fall. Life was going
to get better after this. It had to.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">---<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We were abandoning our home, had abandoned my childhood pet,
and it didn’t feel like much of a stretch to abandon something, myself. So, I
wrote a poem in ink pen on my bedroom wallpaper wishing future occupants a
happier life than I had in that space, and I left a box full of Barbies behind
in my closet.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now the poem itself made a lot of people furious (why does
Shanna have to complicate an already difficult day with inappropriate
behavior?), but it was the Barbies that really caused a ruckus and a torrent of
confused feelings that stay with me today, seriously 30 years later. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For me, the milestone of starting high school meant growing
up, leaving childish things behind. (In all honesty, I think I quit playing
with my Barbies around age 11? So they’d been chilling in “box jail” for a
while.) It was a decision I made with intent on the scariest day of my life and
at the time, it felt like one of the few paltry things I had agency over. I was
growing up, and good things were going to be ahead despite all the fear and
trauma. If everyone else could walk away from something that used to be
important, why couldn’t I?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">---<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But then Granny found the box and y’all, she literally lost
her shit. And then it hit me: she had sewed me lots of outfits for my Barbies,
utilizing thin strips of Velcro so I could dress them easily with my tiny hands
when I was a little girl. Her heart was broken because I had turned my back on
this thing she had done for me with joy, creativity, and love. She snatched
that box up and stuffed it into the cabin of their truck, saying, “These are
mine now.” And she kept them somewhere in storage for 29 years, until the day
she died of Covid last year.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The guilt was unbearable, and no one wanted to hear <i>why</i>,
or seemed to understand that we all made some shit decisions in that survival
mode.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was shamed for being selfish, even cruel, and a little
weird by the family at large.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And I still feel guilty. Careless. Somehow inadvertently
mean when I was trying to do something that meant something to me, something
symbolic just like the words I wrote on the wall.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I don’t remember most of my childhood, but I do know that I
loved those dolls. I do have some hazy memories of playing with them alone –
they were always getting ready for “the party.” Once they got to the party, I
wasn’t really sure what they were supposed to do… so fourteen-or-so Barbies (all
blonde-haired-blue-eyed with the exception of one brunette Barbie and three
Kens – and sadly, obvs all white) were perpetually enjoying getting ready
together for something that never arrived. I’m not sure what the takeaway is
there, but I DO still love getting ready with others (my college friends and I
certainly perfected the art of pre-partying while glamming up). <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But, you know, I did grow up. I went to high school, and I
did learn how to act at parties. It’s a lot like getting ready together.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">----<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My solo play prepared me for the next stage of life; it was
a refuge in a household rift by abuse, lies, worry, and desperation despite our
longing for connection, safety, and unconditional love.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And so yes, I loved my Barbies. I wish Granny knew how much,
and that the gifts she gave meant so much more than she could have imagined or
intended. My impulsive decision to try and leave the past
behind and start growing into who I would choose to be was predicated on her gifts -- she helped create the conditions for my survival and growth. </p><p class="MsoNormal">And that's huge.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-9274890571237720872009-10-15T20:06:00.000-07:002009-10-15T20:31:20.344-07:00i discovered recently while reflecting during transit (as i am wont to do these days, whether walking or being whisked and jolted here and there via the tube) that somehow my grief, the quality of my missing papa has transitioned in the past year.<br /><br />it is not so acute. after nearly five years (can that be?) it has become a slow burn. there is now a chunk of life lived without his presence, his influence. in some ways this hurts even harder. i'm losing the sound, the timbre of his 'hello' when he answered the phone, the memory of his shuffle when he walked out back to feed the goats and dogs and g-d-knows-what-else, emus i guess, more distant, even the first grief a grief of the past, those instances of remembering now something to be remembered, things mediated by the march of minutes as time presses ever forward, even as the past several months have been such a sound vacuum, this bubble of time somehow impervious to reality, or is it vice versa?<br /><br />in many ways i am keeping my thoughts about the past year to myself as they take shape. i am in process.<br /><br />not that i am suggesting there is a destination, some place where i may dust off my hands and declare the work finished, to have somehow come to understand what has taken place (that would be to ascribe it Meaning, i think)... but the analysis is too vulnerable, too young, perhaps too ugly...<br /><br />as i live out the consequences of having checked out from the world for a while to *not die* and recover, the gravity of what has taken place sinks in, shaking me. everyone else already went through this, from the worried space of the proverbial (and actual) bedside.<br /><br />i feel jarred, violently ripped from the life that i knew, battered about and left to recover. the hard work of regaining physical health has led me to sustainable habits. the people i love helped me with that. it is time to figure out what to do with these pieces, to fold this experience into my identity as i make a life again for myself.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-41878509360527503352009-09-18T13:59:00.000-07:002009-09-18T14:03:30.196-07:00not enough room<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RGIhxGe_J4RRMXKvaYBp42a-6fvl7x1ok8taYfz9xBpn68OHFj7laVTqXxT1OrLIHIIN4SK9s7q_dBh3QAvJ6PmihGoX860Vmb83DUfVbXkVz1JyO8JuIgq4jx7XrSxJW_Lcmw/s1600-h/books.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RGIhxGe_J4RRMXKvaYBp42a-6fvl7x1ok8taYfz9xBpn68OHFj7laVTqXxT1OrLIHIIN4SK9s7q_dBh3QAvJ6PmihGoX860Vmb83DUfVbXkVz1JyO8JuIgq4jx7XrSxJW_Lcmw/s320/books.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382916009698173122" border="0" /></a>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-63482621865304289082009-09-11T12:53:00.000-07:002009-09-11T14:40:05.203-07:00Carrot TzatzikiIngredients<br /><br />1 C low-fat plain yogurt<br />1 clove garlic<br />2 tsp olive oil<br />2 tsp white wine vinegar<br />1 carrot<br />s&p to taste<br /><br />Instructions<br /><br />Grate the garlic and carrot into a bowl, combine with the remaining ingredients.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-86537688840653474122009-09-07T07:02:00.000-07:002009-09-07T07:46:42.810-07:00update for inquiring minds<span style="font-size:100%;">Update<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>London</u><br /></span>I leave on the 22nd for London, where I'll be pursuing a MA in Philosophy and Contemporary Critical Theory at <a href="http://www.mdx.ac.uk/www/CRMEP/">Middlesex</a> University. I am still waiting to enroll, but I'll be taking four modules and writing a dissertation. The program takes one full year. I will be studying the German and French schools of thought in a broad sense, and will do in-depth study of Kant, Hegel, Deleuze, Negri, Agamben, Nietzsche, Heidegger....<br /><br />I will also be studying French and hope to get a part-time job doing something fun.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Life, The Universe, and Everything</u><br /></span>I'm still clocking in some hours with the family for whom I'm an assistant. It is difficult to leave my two beautiful, talented children, but I am excited for what the coming year holds for them.<br /><br />My liver is behaving itself, and the latest numbers from my bloodwork are in a healthy range! I am feeling back to "normal" -- I do yoga or run 5x/week, my sleep patterns have normalized, and overall I feel great (this weekend is an exception, due to lack of sleep and a small bug Ann passed my way).<br /><br />I am selling my car, and am trying to simplify as I pack for the UK. I am really going to miss my sewing machine, my guitar, and all of my cooking gear. That stuff is going into storage, along with the books that I can't afford to take. The rest I am giving away. That's right: the largest and most diverse collection of bath products (I could more than fill a large suitcase!)this side of the Red River is going to be scattered among a lucky few.<br /><br />I have about twenty boxes that I have managed to get from various shops in Preston Hollow: the goal is to pack only what will fit in said boxes (or less).<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm sure that there is more to update, but the boy is writing a screenplay for his film studies class and he has some questions about dialogue....<br /><br />***<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span id="profile_status"><span id="status_text">in response to james' question yesterday: i don't know that i need to provide a belief-statement in regard to knowledge of a thing-in-itself (or the thingness of a thing for that matter). that said, i do find kant's argument for a synthetic unity of intuitive occurrences compelling.</span></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">***<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-44418060174560450302009-06-29T14:37:00.000-07:002009-06-29T14:41:33.566-07:00R.I.P. Bronwen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Eb60lCjakgASWeiqL88cTIT93RY7nCE_qsQ7hL2V-AC0bEsO5wNFfhAfveM1X3I7mdcjy6ZF1VCH6qWwuuv5seo9IUnolsziT__NOlMcjsWSi8wpKHZDfgpVdgW2NyOD2ICDGQ/s1600-h/DSCF3817.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Eb60lCjakgASWeiqL88cTIT93RY7nCE_qsQ7hL2V-AC0bEsO5wNFfhAfveM1X3I7mdcjy6ZF1VCH6qWwuuv5seo9IUnolsziT__NOlMcjsWSi8wpKHZDfgpVdgW2NyOD2ICDGQ/s320/DSCF3817.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352867690872031122" border="0" /></a><br />The bunny passed away last week :(trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-45209727342398034712009-06-16T10:39:00.001-07:002009-06-16T10:41:51.796-07:00on bad influences...shan suggests that her uncle play hookey from work to spend a day at bolivar....trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-30578982631448884752009-06-10T15:10:00.000-07:002009-06-10T15:37:02.886-07:0030sometimes, on days frustrating like today, it behooves one to take pause and reflect on the phrase that deserves to be written and uttered more than once or twice:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">i am still here.<br /><br /></span>in this, the summer of my lost year, sitting on the couch at work exhausted while the young teenager plays with his new cell phone, i am reminded of the glass half full take on the troubles my health has brought this direction.<br /><br />and later tonight? spinach and mushroom <a href="http://scaugheyrecipes.blogspot.com/search?q=parrano">enchiladas</a> with <a href="http://scaugheyrecipes.blogspot.com/search?q=mole">mole sauce</a> along with roasted corn on the cobb and chile lime butter.<br /><br /><br />-----<br /><br />my last few blog posts (since the first hospitalization in february) have a forced quality, as though i'm trying to conjure up hope.<br /><br />that's okay. despair is in such ample supply and so damned <span style="font-style: italic;">accessible. </span>i accept this season. sometimes i'm even at peace with the disappointment, suffering, and blows both financial and academic.<br /><br />when i look in the mirror to brush my teeth or comb my hair, a thirty-year-old looks back solemnly.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-64267960111060028862009-05-30T21:13:00.001-07:002009-05-30T21:22:18.657-07:00the strand<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKc9YNwX8W_AxjLw-7Y9NgnbjSOUvMWu-HtjZVv2GgvXgAY8Smm6Z6of71Pyi7_Shbx5aFW_I5M5GXeJW_RJRsUFc_f4FoZwSiVjOPf3GgFVR2iNgvqsv0uoPem_L2fDRVMY9ZLw/s1600-h/DSCF3802.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKc9YNwX8W_AxjLw-7Y9NgnbjSOUvMWu-HtjZVv2GgvXgAY8Smm6Z6of71Pyi7_Shbx5aFW_I5M5GXeJW_RJRsUFc_f4FoZwSiVjOPf3GgFVR2iNgvqsv0uoPem_L2fDRVMY9ZLw/s320/DSCF3802.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341836711757008674" border="0" /></a>This year's trip to Bolivar was calm and healing. The peninsula is definitely making a come back.<br /><br />Ike's water line in Galveston's historic district was higher than our heads in some areas.<br /><br />My favorite place's resilience is encouraging -- I'll go ahead and acknowledge the parallel to my recovery :)<br /><br />The sixth annual trip to the beach was a success.*<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*Speaking of annual events, the 11th annual spaghetti dinner has been postponed (it is traditionally in May). Perhaps this autumn I'll have the energy and wherewithal to throw said shindig.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-40785421346297321762009-05-17T10:13:00.000-07:002009-05-17T11:00:38.892-07:00bootstrapsthree months ago an independent shan drove herself to the hospital at the behest of her GP where she spent the first night alone, in good cheer.<br /><br />i didn't see the storm that was coming. i remember thinking it odd that they asked if i had a living will when i admitted myself.<br /><br />i have come a long way since i got up close and personal with death, but there is no end in sight to this recovery.<br /><br />i just have to remind myself that just because it is not *in sight* that does not mean it is not there, somewhere in the hazy future. and between now and whatever, whenever <span style="font-style: italic;">there</span> holds and will be: a few days on bolivar. my butt may have refused to return after the bout of malnourishment, but i'm still donning a bikini to get my annual dose of salt water and sun, of vacation.<br /><br /><br />----<br /><br />nearly dying gets one thinking about things like wills and such. at this point dan gets the books, the journals, the computers (and files, including everything i've written). it seems silly to itemize my shit (my chef's knife goes to courtney, the sewing machine and stuff to mom, etc.)<br /><br />i'm really kind of hoping to be around a lot longer.<br /><br />regarding any sort of service: justin has to sing and play "today" -- uncle mike will lead everyone in "you are my sunshine" as he did at aunt mandi's funeral... and until i make arrangements to be put in the earth in a natural way, the interim plan is to be cremated. i wouldn't mind being sprinkled or tumped over the edge of wheeler peak in new mexico, but that means someone has to climb that sucker. the window out in big bend national park is a good alternative. either way you're going to have to split me up, because some ashes are going to go over the railing of the bolivar ferry, inshallah.<br /><br />that's all i've got at the moment. time to get to work.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-47311987401157531272009-04-27T15:51:00.000-07:002009-04-27T16:03:08.721-07:00Das LebenThe disappointment at the canceled (or rather, severely delayed) trip to Germany has hung like a low cloud with long gusty winds for long enough.<div><br /></div><div>Today I received a German reader and the Christian Bible in German, along with a German-English dictionary. The first Harry Potter and a German-German dictionary are on their way (I found a good vs. of the latter online at www.dwds.de. It's going to be slow-go, especially as my vocab is very small at this point, but I'm following the <a href="www.apronus.com">apronus</a> method.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just "read" (translated) a brief poem entitled "Das Leben."</div><div><br /></div><div>Next up: the book of Mark.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>hope.</div>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-26104139337431008642009-04-25T14:43:00.000-07:002009-04-25T14:45:05.123-07:00Introducing Bronwen!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNU4LOEOfMNf87xmGblTNI-XJD1iVZorNkGaIzVHYYSr7h7a4KR9rWOetnKKkid3cdmMmg9stBjuatkb0UBfgvOrAgBhLfhP3AFsUFoDAy7sSBChnM3OQR4vwri0bMnf-VObVimQ/s1600-h/bunny.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNU4LOEOfMNf87xmGblTNI-XJD1iVZorNkGaIzVHYYSr7h7a4KR9rWOetnKKkid3cdmMmg9stBjuatkb0UBfgvOrAgBhLfhP3AFsUFoDAy7sSBChnM3OQR4vwri0bMnf-VObVimQ/s320/bunny.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328748238986695122" border="0" /></a>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-85783698683756914262009-04-25T04:25:00.000-07:002009-04-25T04:31:50.570-07:00Creamy Low-sodium Veggie MixIngredients<br /><br />New potatoes, boiled till soft and sliced into 1/2 inch rounds<br />Chopped veggies (onion, bell pepper, mushroom, carrot, etc)<br />Heavy cream<br />Penzey's "Sunny Spain" spice mix<br />Kosher salt<br />Freshly ground black pepper.<br /><br />Instructions<br /><br />Place all ingredients in a heavy pot (use enough cream to cover the veggies); bring to a boil and lower heat. Simmer for ~20 minutes. Spice to taste.<br /><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;">Thanks for the recipe Mom!)</span>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-65229345029858695512009-04-25T04:14:00.000-07:002009-04-25T04:24:19.887-07:00Roasted Eggplant with Orzo and Ricotta PillowsIngredients<br /><br />1/8 C olive oil<br />1 C chopped onion<br />2 large leeks, washed and sliced 1/2 inch thick<br />1 large eggplant, chopped<br />2 medium red peppers, seeded and chopped<br />3 large tomatoes, chopped<br />1/2 C sun-dried tomatoes, thinkly sliced<br />3 large cloves garlic, minced<br />1/2 pound orzo pasta, cooked<br />1/2 C chopped fresh basil<br />1/2 C tomato juice<br />1 C ricotta cheese<br />1/2 C pine nuts<br />1/2 C dried bread crumbs<br />1/2 C grated parmesan<br />1/4 C chopped parsley<br />2 tsp dried Italian herbs<br /><br />Instructions<br /><br />Preheat oven to 375. Saute onion, leeks, eggplant and peppers in the olive oil for 3-5 minutes; adding water if necessary to prevent sticking to the pan.<br /><br />Add the tomatoes, sundried tomatoes, garlic, and orzo. Stir in the basil and tomato juice, add scant pinch of kosher salt and black pepper to taste and stir. Place in a 9X9 greased baking dish. Top with dollops of spooned-on ricotta. Mix the pine nuts, bread crumbs, parm, parsley, and Italian herbs; sprinkle on top of the mixture. Bake until top is golden brown, ~ 20 minutes.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From the </span>Whole Foods Market Cookbook<span style="font-style: italic;">.</span>trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-38627316231317941422009-04-25T04:10:00.000-07:002009-04-25T04:25:42.060-07:00Cauliflower Sauteed with Peaches and CardamomIngredients<br /><br />4 C chopped cauliflower<br />2 medium shallots, slivered<br />1/4 tsp kosher salt<br />3/4 lb peaches (2 medium)<br />1/2 tsp ground ground cardamom<br />Black Pepper<br />2 tbsp minced fresh parsley leaves<br /><br />Instructions.<br /><br />Cook cauliflower, shallots, and salt with 1/3 C water in heavy skillet covered for 7-10 minutes (till cauliflower is fork-tender). Peel the peaches and slice the flesh from the pits into bite-sized chunks; stir in with the spices and cook for ~3 minutes; toss with the parsley. Add s&p to taste.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From </span>The Vegan Gourmet.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-38226988916043979682009-03-26T18:26:00.000-07:002009-03-26T18:30:19.995-07:00shan's first complaintmy stomach may be huge, but to get rid of the fluid (which in addition to being unsightly is very dangerous: it could get infected and put me back in the hospital) i have to eat less than 2,000 mg of salt per day.<br /><br />there is more sodium in <em>one teaspoon of salt</em> than that.<br /><br /><br />the chef is being shut down for a while :(trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-11369479877011879902009-03-24T17:04:00.000-07:002009-04-06T08:30:36.955-07:00this month:I beat <a href="http://www.merck.com/mmhe/sec10/ch135/ch135f.html">hepatic encephalopathy</a> among other things.<br /><br />I've discovered that my sister is not only an incredible nurse but a thoughtful, fun roommate.<br /><br />I fell in love with bathtubs and beds all over again after the hospital stay.<br /><br /><br /><br />i am still here.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-88155811342599489622009-02-09T16:05:00.001-08:002009-02-09T16:05:40.244-08:00Initially I read <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/02/09/liberians.deportation/index.html">this </a>headline as "<em>Librarians</em> Being Deported"trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-71092345580618622132009-02-07T05:51:00.000-08:002009-02-07T05:58:30.726-08:00saturday feels like saturdaywho knew i would love homiletics (or exegesis for that matter)?<br /><br />this morning is gorgeous gray and temperate. i really wish that i could talk to papa; i'm curious about how he prepared... i know he loved his concordance.<br /><br /><br />heading to work, and then tonight i try a plum sandwich with arugula-walnut pesto recipe, along with a warm pear rainbow swiss chard salad with sour orange vinaigrette.<br /><br /><br />i love the new andrew bird and saxby's coffee shop. saturday feels like saturday.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-52384621648236347382009-01-18T07:39:00.000-08:002009-01-18T07:53:34.403-08:00The Wood Rat (Bastard Bitch)One of my favorite Taos stories involves these rather cute little rodents who build nests out of pine needles and what counts as brush where they hoard pinon pine nuts and sparkly things they may happen to come across.<br /><br />I don't really undestand wood rat psychology, but it appears that these little guys either have a rather skewed bartering system or a severe case of OCD -- whenever they take something that shines they leave something in its place.<br /><br />This is important to note, because when staying in the forest in Taos on the SMU campus we are urged to keep the doors to the casitas closed at all times so that local wildlife (such as raccoons as big as goat dogs) don't wander in and wreak havoc. During one summer term an affluent student left a pair of diamond stud earrings in on the bathroom counter, a space she was sharing with about ten other women.<br /><br />After returning from brunch at the town square, she discovered that one of her earrings had been stolen. She indulged in several minutes of accusations and finger pointing, and took her complaint to the gentleman who runs the summer programs on campus. She was dismayed when he chuckled and asked her, "Was there by chance a pebble placed next to the other earring?"<br /><br />I felt a similar sense of futility and humor when the glass guy was vacuuming up all the breakaway bits and handed me a huge rock that he found in the passenger seat. "This thing yours?"<br /><br /><br />It is now.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-52514965211704736952009-01-10T11:49:00.000-08:002009-01-10T12:01:17.309-08:00at work after a morning with jill, the brilliant punster who consumes large quantities of milk, bellydances for fun, and is one outstanding actress who hails from chicago these days.*<br /><br />i showed her the changing skyline of dallas and we hit a couple of old favorite haunts (if purchasing hummus and banging on damon's door can be considered such) while catching up. she is a part of a vibrant community of creative folk who, among other things, have their own theater company.<br /><br />it had not occurred to me to consider the effects of the economic downturn on the arts in any detail. so many artists of any bent rely on day jobs (and certainly night jobs in much of the service industry) to sustain them so that they may pursue their art.<br /><br />just a thought.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-14136053527577141852009-01-09T09:11:00.000-08:002009-01-09T09:45:01.683-08:00post-atheism: a definition of sortsThe adoption of the term post-atheist as a self-description springs from a determination to name myself. I had a conversation with my cousin Todd over the holidays last year (he's a brilliant geneticist who I do not get to see too often) and he asked why I didn't just use the term "agnostic."<br /><br />First, that term is often misused and misunderstood. It carries with it some cultural understandings that do not apply to the strict <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/agnostic">definition</a> of the word.<br /><br />After a period of rather pointed, barbed atheism (what <a href="http://theyblinked.com/blog">theyblinked</a> referred to as my fundamentalist atheism), I discovered that it was arrogant and off-putting to simply exchange one fundamentalism for another.<br /><br />One reason I've been uncomfortable with the term "atheist" is that it involves identifying oneself negatively in regard to the other. It establishes and validates the other as the norm. Attempts of atheists to rename themselves have thus far been lackluster (any one remember the Brights?). All of this said, I did identify as such, so as I pursue a more nuanced theory of the creeping metaphysic and allow space for the mystery, "post-atheist" seems like the most appropriate term.<br /><br />----<br /><br />In addition, I am enamored of the connotations that the prefix "post" contains. The term "post" indicates that something has come before, that this thing is a part of one's personal contingency that cannot be effaced. I am post-"many things" -- it just so happens that atheism is the most recent and pertinent. I still consider myself a self deconstructing text (like all texts). I'm definitely post-Christian. All of that is kind of personal history business that may or may not be of interest. (For me the theoretical is inextricably tied to one's experience -- I am by default contingently interested in theory.)<br /><br />So why post-atheism? It does not shut down the possibility of the mystery (to borrow process theologians' languagwe), the oceanic (see Freud and otr psychoanalysts*), metaphysics of varying degrees, etc. Even for staunchly atheist thinkers such as Richard Rorty one can detect a "creeping metaphysic" (I'm working on tweaking a paper on the the creeping metaphysic in his work).<br /><br />Labels are always already inadequate pieces of shorthand, but as we are linguistic creatures (see how even that word presupposes a creator?) it behooves us --well, me, anyway-- to select carefully the language we use. The term post-atheist is an honest attempt at self-description. That I still eschew invisible sky king religion riles some people up. The contingeny, identity, social location, whathaveyou, that is particular to the person Shanna Caughey can bewilder some (especially some of my peers at Perkins School of Theology, where I'm pursuing a Masters in Theological Studies). My motivation for pursuing this degree is another topic, and I have thai food to plan out, purchase, and cook....<br /><br /><br />**I found <a href="post-atheism:%20a%20definition%20of%20sorts">this</a> while poking around the internet this morningtrialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-82677823973247549732009-01-09T08:46:00.000-08:002009-01-09T08:53:15.366-08:00Turning 30!Per usual, several friends will be gathering at the Meridian Room on my birthday. (I am so utterly thrilled that the place is open again.)<br /><br />Saturday, January 24 from 7PM to ?trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23050163.post-65403193593345084822009-01-04T09:27:00.001-08:002009-01-04T09:33:45.960-08:00i don't know if i just realized that i am a girl of sorts, or that i spend too much on beauty products.<br /><br /><br />either way, i am livid. every last bit of my makeup is gone. gone. i will not embarrass myself by telling you how much that little bag of colors and brushes and such was worth.trialbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10839552774789270591noreply@blogger.com0