Spinach and Ricotta Ravioli

I feel so satisfied and accomplished - just for cooking a simple meal.  Partly because I figured out something delicious and special from ingredients already around the house.  Partly becaue it was my own recepie.  Partly becaue it was so yummy.  Spinach and ricotta stuffed raviolis. 

To a non cook, the idea that a regular person could make pasta, and without too much fuss, is astounding.  Pasta comes from factories, I believed, some unknowable process that involves machines spewing forth a hard substance that must be boiled soft.  I have come to understand that a not-particularly-talented-cook can create tender, tasty delights.  Lola, and Lidia have shown me that it is possible.

I realize now, that magic is always there, waiting to be born from the innocent and ever present flour in the cupboard and eggs in the refrigerator.  Mix, knead, press - tah dah!

Saute some garlic in a little butter, add spinach, ricotta and prosciutto.  Plop little piles in intervals along a long rectangle of pasta.  Fold, seal, cut, and boil.  And there you have it!  I made a dinner fit for a cookbook, for a cooking show.  If I can do it, you can do it, too.

sounds of love on Voyager

Friday morning I heard a touching love story on NPR (public radio).  As I was going about my usual morning routine, I became enthralled by the voice of the woman telling the story.  I later learned it was the wife of Carl Sagan, Ann Druyan.  She was telling the story of how she and Carl Sagan fell in love and married, and how a part of that process is now travelling through space on the Voyager spacecrafts. 

Druyan-Sagan Associates, Inc.

In the piece from Morning Edition, by Soren Wheeler and Jad Abumrad, Ann tells of the comaraderie between herself and Mr. Sagan as they worked together to create the golden record which was placed in the two Voyager spacecrafts launched in 1977.  "The records on board were meant to survive for a billion years, in the hope that some day, against enormous odds, they might cross paths with an alien civilization."  They were created to educate that alien civilization about Earth.  (see link to story below.)  Mr. Sagan was in charge of the project and Ann was the creative director.  The record included recordings of people saying "Hello" in 59 languages, the song of the humpback whale, a mother's first words to her newborn baby.

Ann and Carl worked together as nothng more than acquaintances colleagues for 18 months.  In one night that changed.  Ann had been working hard to find just the right piece of Chinese music for the record.  She excitedly called Mr. Sagan at his hotel when she discovered it.  During the conversation that ensued when he returned the call, they became engaged.  They had never even kissed.

Ann then had an idea for the record: if they could record electrical impulses in the human brain, perhaps whomever discovered the records sometime in the future could decode the information and understand our thoughts.  Two days after Ann and Carl became engaged, Ann had her own brain impulses recorded.  Of course at that time, she was feeling ecstatic and tremendously in love with Carl Sagan.  During the recording, she meditated on "the wonder of love, of being in love."  That recording was included on the golden record, still continuing its journey at 35,000 miles per hour through space, carrying the sound of a human body in love.

Listen to the show, or download the transcript at:
Carl Sagan And Ann Druyan's Ultimate Mix Tape

The sun just this minute slid its rays around the piney curtain barring its earlier climb above the horizon.  It was almost a flash, or like someone turned on a spotlight.  One minute it was dreary gray and cold outside, and the next - light.  Let there be light. 

I had been sitting in my sunroom feeling... well, gray.  No reason.  No justification.  Nothing to do with my previous post.  In fact, I was sort of wondering at it, feeling somewhat more wretched because I am a very fortunate person and have nothing to justify the self indulgence of blah.  Then the sun slapped me in the face. 

Remembering

I found out today that a client of mine passed away a few days ago.  I myself had been trying to reach her last week.  I had wondered about how I would find out if something happened, and whom I should call to check on her.  She had moved to another state, so was too far away to check on myself.  Today I learned that my concerns were real.  She was my age. 

I am not able to talk about her in any detail, but I can tell you that she had a good heart, was generous, so outgoing and funny, and she was very brave through hard setbacks she had to endure.  I am thinking about you, L.  I hope you have peace now.

double black diamond

Last night I made a milestone: skied the double black diamond trail on our little mountain.   What fun!  The snow these days is hard and fast - so easy skiing.  I am getting used to skiing fast, and last night felt loose and easy.  That's the best part.  No, wait, the best part is being outside on a sparkling night and feeling the wind tear your eyes (the only part of my body not covered).

Just a tiny funny, a photo memory for myself - just one of the many new chewed items in my home.  At least she did not get the phone!

on the trail

It's fun to discover small wonders while out on the (almost) daily woods-walk with the dogs.  This is a growing pile of pine chips a woodpecker has worked out of that tree. 

Up the tree about 15 feet are several large holes.  I did not have my camera with me, just my iPhone, so the photo is not as clear as I would like. And, because of the backlighting, I could not adjust to get a better image of the holes - but you can see, just barely, the pale tan of newly exposed pinewood.  I think that the animal's ability to find food in the winter is amazing.  The woodpecker, especially, drilling through solidly frozen wood, hammering its beak with such force.  As I sit here, inside, in front of an electric heater, with a full tummy, while the wind sings outside, I know how easy I have it in comparison.

New Things

A year or so ago we decided we wanted to learn how to ski.  As New Hampshire residents and native New Englanders, it is almost a birthright, or rather, birth-obligation.  So, we bought equipment and season's passes to the local hill and snapped ourselves on - we became "skiers" of the "just do it" school.  Now, I have had skis attached to my feet at other times in my life.  When I was 6 or so my older brother caught the bug, and my family supported his interest.  I got to tag along until he grew old enough to continue his passion without parents and a little sibling cramping his style, or until I grew out of the ski boots bought for me in the initial parental expression of enthusiasm.  My brother's son is now an internationally acclaimed and well known snowboarder, and my brother wins "senior" amateur races himself.

I was left behind.  I "matured" without much further experience, but for a time or two on rented skis in another effort towards acheiving skill.  It always just seemed like one of those things one should just be able to do and experience.  A mysterious ability that seems to spring from nothing, like swimming or tennis, but that actually either develops effortlessly in childhood, or more painstakingly in adulthood.  So, when one can not swoop and swoosh as one can clearly see all those other cool people on the slopes do, it gets discouraging, and expensive.  Still, I decided that as long as I live here in the Northern reaches of the country, where snow covers the landscape for 4 months or so a year, I'll be damned if I'm not going to get out there and enjoy it!

Mastering a new physical skill at age 50 is a different experience than it as when I was young.  Not bad.  Just different.  Progress is slow.  It's about keeping at it, and trying not to be afraid of speed, lack of control, or of breaking a leg.  Ha!  But then, suddenly it seems after all, I'm sking down black diamond trails.  It might not be pretty, really not pretty, but there I am, and it seems like the "just do it" school is worth enrolling in.

Leah

I finally got the new puppy to stand still long enough to get a few pictures, but just barely.  So, here is the lucky puppy from Polk County Animal Shelter in Florida.  She's still fairly thin, but I'm working on it.  She gets double what the other two dogs get in food each day.

Digging for apples in the snow (underneath an apple treee).  She's obsessed with apples.

The usual, playing with the other dog (why it's so hard to get a photo)

The dog in the foreground has dropped a stick at my feet to throw.  Leah is chewing, as usual.  Lisbon is off with his own toy in the back, so these foreground two don't get in his way.

How Do We Change the World?

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about what positive change I can make on the world.  I feel I have a responsibility, more than that of just being kind and doing good.  We have it in us.  And if it is in me, too, then I need to use it.  (Is this just a middle aged version of a biological clock ticking: babies created and my genes passed on - now to make a larger impact on the world?)  I heard Greg Mortenson's name in the media regularly last month as he promoted his new book, Stones Into Schools, and his continuing mission to build schools and promote peace.  At the airport, I picked up a magazine, Outside, that was devoted to people "who are changing the world." and how they are doing it.  Weeks later, as I drove to skiing one evening last week, the BBC's One Planet was on the radio discussing the status of several people's efforts to stop the use of animals in medical and other scientific research (it's not going very well). 

So, these stories are swirling around in my head.  People, ordinary people, yet with a spark to make something happen, create something that had not existed before, change something that their gut and mind cry out is WRONG and make noise about it until the rest of us listen.  Wow.

What can I do?

Travels With Charley

I picked up this book by chance.  You know the scenario at the bookstore: eyes caressing the books on the shelves like loaves of fresh bread while slightly salivating at the possibilities of delight in their contents.  Strolling dreamily. I was Christmas shopping for a particular book, and about to take a trip and needed a book of my own for the airplane.  The visual "Steinbeck," along with a picture with a PWD type dog were sitting on the shelf staring at me like the Geico dollars.  "I am for you, " it called.

 (Photo from Amazon)

This book is thoughtful, middleaged version of Kerouac's "On The Road."  In addition to the marvelous writing, I found it fascinating to read about someone rediscovering a changed, more modern America - in 1960!  His view was fresh, seing the plastic infused hotels and roadside diners with disdain of their anitseptic modernism.  Same with the self serve (read oderless and tasteless) food kiosk in motels.  Interstate highways were new.  Mr. Steinbeck took his trip about the time I was born, so I was reading my unremembered history through the eyes of a veteran observer.  Here is his description of autumn leaves as he drove into New Hampshire:  "The climate changed quickly to cold and the trees burst into color, the reds and yellows you can't believe.  It isn't only color but a glowing, as though the leaves gobbled the light of the autumn sun and then released it slowly.  There's a quality of fire in these colors."

His writing is unpretentious, but deep, thoughtful and so observant of the characters and scenery he encounters.  John Steinbeck's writings are most often the stuff of high school English classes - but now I can't wait to revisit or discover his other jewels.

Not too much snow around this Christmas.  Enough to let those in the family who are not regularly around snow enjoy its unique beauty.  It's snowing again this weekend, all weekend.  The lightly falling flakes, relative warmth, soft air and ethereal light are so invigorating.  I can't stop admiring the view. 

Last night was our first skiing of the season.  It felt smooth and easy.  The lights on the mountain, the snowfall, light fog off the snow, created such a glowing effect.  It was like skiing in a star.  Yes, I fell.  On the last run of a quick, "warm up" trip.  Hyperextended my knee and am hobbling now. But no serious injury. 

Some more of the family went home yesterday and there is no more child laughter and energy....  Still, all is well and the new year seems bright with promise, and I wonder how you all are doing.