Big Block of Cheese Day

Yes, I’m still among the top 10 fans of The West Wing! You’ll never guess where those mythical American leaders showed up this time…

Friday, I was watching the opening livestream for a new Intentional Creativity ® class called World Soul. Led by Adriana Medina and Shiloh Sophia McCloud, it has to do with cultures and perspectives and how each of us views our place in the world.

The opening Red Thread Cafe conversation was both fascinating and moving in the sense of recognizing that there is always more awareness to be embraced. As I sat, running my red thread through my hands and reflecting on things that helped my world grow, I realized I was humming.

It took me a minute to realize that I was humming the theme music to The West Wing. Then, suddenly, I figured out why.

It had to do with episode 16 in Season 2, –  Somebody’s Going to Emergency, Somebody’s Going to Jail. “This broadcast has often been referred to as the best episode of West Wing to ever air”  (Editorial review, Amazon.com).

Imagine, if you will, the voice of a gruff but enlightened White House Chief of Staff named Leo McGarry explaining, in the midst of a morning staff meeting, something very close to…

President Andrew Jackson had, in the main foyer of his white house, a 2-ton block of cheese. It was there for any and all who were hungry. 

In this spirit, from time to time, we ask senior staff to open their office doors to those who have difficulty getting the ear of the White House…

Yes, this was a while ago… but are you there already??? (Netflix or YouTube will be glad to help you out!)

Press Secretary, C.J. Cregg, was assigned to meet with a fictional group of Cartographers for Social Equality who re-educated members of the President’s staff on their perceptions of the globe by lobbying for support for the Peters Map to be used in every public school classroom in the USA.

This map looks quite different than the one I remember from geography class. I’m guessing it looks different from the one you remember, too!

The main difference lies in the accurate proportional sizes of continents and countries. It can also be turned south side up which caused C.J. to stammer, What the hell is that?

The cartographers replied, It’s where you’ve been living this whole time. 

There’s more to the episode, and it’s one of my favorites.

For our purposes, though, I suspect I was humming the WW theme because, somewhere in my consciousness, I was aware that the painting journey on which I was about to embark was going to take me farther still from the place I was raised to think I’d been living this whole time.

Just between us, with the new gallery, holiday art markets, and the kids coming, I haven’t started the actual painting yet but I’m already noticing and wondering new things, thanks to Adriana and Shiloh and Aaron Sorkin, et al.

I’ll keep you posted!

And I did get an extra copy of the map to send home with my girls!

p.s. It seems that President Obama was a fan of WW, too. Big Block of Cheese Day is reported to have actually happened during his presidency!

We Really Don’t Know…

It’s been a bit of a day. The kind of day that brings to mind a story that is, in my world, both important and uncomfortable.

I learned it as an ancient Sufi teaching story. It is teaching me still…

The Wise Old Man at the Top of the Mountain

Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, there was a farmer. The farmer lived in a small village in a far-away land, near a mountain.

One morning the farmer got up and went out to care for his animals. As he went about his chores, the farmer, who was very poor, noticed that his cow was missing. “Oh, no!” cried the farmer. “Whatever will we do?” The farmer was very upset and he had no idea what to do next. As the day went on, the farmer became even more unhappy. Finally he decided that he had to do something. There was only one thing he could think of to do.

He walked sadly down the little road until it started to lead up the mountain. The farmer climbed and climbed up the mountain. His feet hurt and it was beginning to get cold, but still the farmer climbed. When he got to the top of the mountain, he found a cave where there lived a wise old man.

“Farmer!” called the wise old man, for he was used to having visitors like this. “Come in. Sit by the fire. Have a cup of tea. And tell me what brings you here today.”

The farmer bowed to the wise old man and accepted his cup of tea. And then, with a shaking voice and a tiny tear in his eye, the farmer told the wise old man that his cow was gone. Disappeared.

“How will my family live?” the farmer asked. “We need the cow for milk and to plow our fields. Without her, we will starve.”

The wise old man set his tea down and he began to pull on his long skinny beard with one of his hands, as he looked deep into the farmer’s eyes. “We don’t know,” said the wise old man, “whether this is good news or bad news.”

The farmer leaped up, dropping his tea on the floor. This man wasn’t wise! Clearly losing their cow was terrible news. And off the farmer went, stomping down the mountain and muttering to himself about the crazy old man.

Several days went by. The farmer spent a lot of time telling his neighbors about his trip up the mountain and how strange it was that the old man just said, “We don’t know if this is good news or bad news.”

The next morning the very worried farmer got up and went out to begin his work. There, much to his surprise, was his cow. And not only his cow, but a big, strong bull as well. The farmer was so surprised and so happy that he dropped his tools and went, as fast as he could go, back up the mountain to see the wise old man.

“Come in,” the wise old man greeted him. “Sit down. Have a cup of tea.”

The farmer was so excited he was nearly bursting with his news.

“Tell me what brings you here today,” said the wise old man.

“Well!” said the farmer. “I got up this morning and there was my cow. She came home! And not only that, but there was a beautiful, strong bull in the yard as well! Our family is saved! We’ll be rich!”

The wise old man set his tea down and he began to pull on his long skinny beard with one of his hands as he looked into the farmer’s eyes. “We don’t know,” said the wise old man, “whether this is good news or bad news.”

The farmer had never heard anything so silly in his life! Of course this was good news! And off the farmer went, stomping down the mountain and muttering to himself about the crazy old man.

Some more time passed.

One day, the farmer’s son, who was just learning to use the plow to dig up the earth for planting, hitched the big, strong bull to the plow and began to work. It was a nice, sunny day and the farmer’s son was thinking about many things. Suddenly, a very large bee flew up and stung the bull right on his nose.

Well! The bull bellowed really loudly, as bulls are known to do, and began to run. The farmer’s son wasn’t strong enough to hold on to the plow. He fell over right in the field and heard a loud sound coming from his leg. Suddenly his leg began to hurt more than anything had ever hurt before. All he could do was sit in the dirt and watch as the bull dug up the earth and ran, as fast as he could go, right through the fence and away down the road.

The farmer, who loved his son, heard him crying and went running to see what was wrong. There was his dear son on the ground. The field was destroyed where it was all dug up. The bull had clearly crashed through the fence and run away. The farmer did not know what he and his family would do so he did the first right thing. He went and got the village doctor who came and cared for his son.

The boy’s leg was broken. The doctor tied tree branches to each side of it, as they used to do long ago, and wrapped it tight with some old pieces of cloth. The farmer and the doctor carried the boy to a small porch on the front of their tiny home. The doctor said the boy would have to stay there for many weeks and would not be able to walk.

The farmer was more and more upset. In fact, he was more upset than he’d ever been. Finally, because he didn’t know what else to do, he went and climbed slowly up the mountain.

“Come in,” the wise old man greeted him. “Sit down. Have a cup of tea. Tell me what brings you here today.”

The farmer was so upset he could barely talk. Finally he managed to explain what had happened. His field was ruined. The bull was gone, and with him the plow. And his dear son’s leg was broken and would not heal for many weeks.

The wise old man set his tea down and he began to pull on his long skinny beard with one of his hands, as he looked deep into the farmer’s eyes. “We don’t know,” said the wise old man, “whether this is good news or bad news.”

With that, the farmer flung his tea cup to the ground and went stomping down off the mountain, threatening to tell everyone he knew that the wise old man was not wise at all, but mean and just plain crazy.

The farmer was so angry he could barely do his work. A few days passed as he cared for his son without crutches or wheelchairs or any of the things we might use in our time.

Then, one morning, the farmer woke to all kinds of noise in the village. There were soldiers from far away on the road, with wagons, capturing all the young men of the village to go and fight in a war. People were crying and begging that their sons not be taken.

The farmer’s son couldn’t go, because of his broken leg.

When the soldiers had left the village, the farmer went and fixed tea for his son and himself. And he pulled a bit at his long, skinny beard and said, with a light of understanding in his eye, “We really don’t know, do we? (Boardman, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope)

There is a mountain nearby but I’m pretty sure it’s lacking this particular kind of  wise old man, and my right SI joint is cranky and it’s pretty cold, at least for Atlanta, or I’d be out there, watching the full moon and looking for wisdom.

As it is, I’m grateful for about an hour and a half with a tribe of women on a virtual mountain called  Zoom who are asking, and pondering, some really important questions. And, somehow, that connection makes it easier to live with some of the not knowing.

After all, life is for learning! Which may just be the most important thing we have to share, with ourselves and with all those we love. Especially the littles.

 

Wonders Abound!

Not too long ago I was thrilled to be part of an online class led by Sam Bennett of The Organized Artist Company. Sam is one of those people who come to be friends because they’re already friends with people you love and respect.

Sam is also comfortingly quirky which may be why she was teaching a whole herd of artsy types about “Weird Ways”  to earn about $2,000 before the end of 2019!

I learned lots of useful things that have taken root and bloomed in my holiday art markets and in a whole new way of thinking about signs and letting people know how to help make a difference in the world.

I also learned that when we open the door to a bit of newness, MORE has a habit of inviting itself in! It’s one of those energy things.

Here’s what happened next…

On Wednesday, I had lunch with a paint buddy and we took a bit of a field trip to a local boutique art gallery called Wild Oats & Billy Goats. I’ve loved it for years and treasure several things that have followed me home from their fabulously varied collection.

While we were there, I asked if they were looking for new artists.

They were!!!

IMG_6447One thing led to another and, by noon on Friday, I was the newest artist at Wild Oats & Billy Goats!!! (And yes, I’m thrilled!)

For Atlanta area friends, they’re on the Decatur Square and are easy to spot. There’s a herd of metal goat sculptures on the sidewalk!

There’s also an online gallery. I have descriptions to post!!!

A Heart for the World is there, eager to meet you, along with several of her friends.

Then I spent some more time hanging out with Sam yesterday and I have a business name now, too!

The Fiercely Compassionate Artist ®

And a “headshot” (which some of you have seen before) to go with it… a portrait of “Grammy” by my granddaughter, Kenzie!

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All of which feels totally wonder-full.

So does the fact that Bill and I cleaned out and sorted our people-food freezer today. Not as artsy, perhaps. But, a wonder-fully weird way to “earn” money by actually being able to find, and eat, what’s been hiding in there!

Warm food for the Cold or Long Nights Moon which will occur on Thursday, December 12, at 12:12 am ET. Which, as I think about it, is a bit of a wonder, itself!

“You’ve gotta do the things that you pray!”

Jim Morgan is an old friend of mine. The Grace Notes recording artist wrote and sings a song reminding us that, as the title says, we’ve gotta do the things that we pray.

Filed right beside that truth, somewhere in my head, is the old preacher-ism, “You’ve gotta do what you preach!”

The therapist who lurks inside me would chime in with something along the lines of not just “noticing and wondering” about other folks, but also about ourselves.

All of those things, if we’re being honest, get tough sometimes.

Today, though, having survived Thanksgiving Day, Black Friday, the Return(s) of Black Friday, an Art Party on Sunday, Cyber Monday, and then a combination of Giving Tuesday and another Art Market, I’m going to give it a try.

I’m going to take care of myself tonight and I’m going to start by taking the rest of the night off!

Just as soon as I share a glimpse of my new greeting cards and some of my favorite words from Shiloh Sophia McCloud on the off chance that you need them, as I do, in this moment:

I am a creative being, not a creative doing, 

and sometimes being creative is allowing myself

to do nothing except the act of dreaming. 

-from The Creative Being Creed, Tea with the Midnight Muse

Here’s to making space for all our dreams… and helping our kids do the same!

(And to getting that huge pot of broth into the fridge.)

 

Two kinds of magic!

Today was magic of the learning and connecting and giving sort, all in the energy cauldron of an Art Party.

The car is still full of boxes and my feet are several blocks past sore but it was a good day.

Tomorrow, it’s time for another sort of magic at our house.

Art, too, I guess. In an energy cauldron of a different sort.

Yes! It’s time for turkey bone broth! And, just in case there might be some bones in your fridge, too, here’s the magic spell.

Trust me… you’ve got this, and you’ll be glad you did!

Really Excellent Turkey Broth…

Makes: 6 – 8 quarts in a 10 – 12 quart stockpot. You can also use this process in an InstantPot. Follow manufacturer’s instructions for settings and time, scaling down your ingredients for the max fill line on your particular pot and being sure to soak raw bones as directed. (Bones that won’t fit will freeze nicely until next time!)

Notes: Consider making a big pot of turkey broth as part of a holiday tradition. It’s a great way to teach the next generations and it smells heavenly. 

I like a very clear turkey broth with a lot of depth that can be used in any number of recipes, so this is what I do. If you have a specific flavor profile in mind, feel free to adjust the herbs and veg as you like. Please resist the temptation to toss all the wilted stuff in your fridge into the pot!

Ingredients: The best stock contains a mixture of roasted and raw bones. Choose yours from the list below.

  • Carcass from ½ a roasted turkey, including some ribs and a wing, with some meat still attached. A leg is also useful if you have one left. Smoked turkey bones will work, too! If you just roasted a turkey breast, use those bones and add bones from a couple of roasted chickens.
  • Any necks, hearts, or gizzards you’ve saved. (Freeze livers separately for dirty rice, etc.)
  • Additional raw bones, about 1-2 lb. necks, backs, wings, etc. (You can use chicken bones, too, if you like.) I particularly like necks for this because they have lots of healing cartilage. Check your local farmer or an international market near you.
  • 3 Tbsp. acidic liquid. I use Braggs Organic Apple Cider Vinegar “with the mother.” White wine or fresh lemon juice will work, too.
  • 3-4 med or large yellow onions, halved, with skins on. (Really!)
  • 3-4 whole garlic bulbs, halved, with paper on.
  • 3-4 fresh bay leaves or 2-3 dried ones.
  • Fresh thyme sprigs. The more the merrier! I use a bundle about the diameter of a quarter, tied with white cotton kitchen string. Add a 4-6 inch sprig of fresh rosemary if you like.
  • Fresh parsley stems, if you happen to have some around. Tie them with the thyme sprigs. 

Place raw bones with any gizzards or hearts into stockpot. Add cold water to cover by 2-3 inches. Add cider vinegar, white wine, or lemon juice. Cover and allow to sit, off the heat, for about 45 minutes. This helps pull the minerals and other goodies out of the bones and into the stock.

After you’ve soaked the raw bones, add the roasted bones to the stockpot.

Add additional cold water, leaving room at the top to add your veg and herbs. Place pot over med. high heat and bring to a very gentle boil.

After pot begins to boil gently, adjust temp to keep it from reaching a full, rolling boil. Skim whatever foam or bits of grey-ish stuff float to the surface and discard. You’ll need to skim every few minutes until it quits creating stuff to skim! (About 10-15 min. total.) This step is important! Skimming helps create a beautiful clear broth and prevents the development of any bitter taste.

While you’re skimming every few minutes, prep your veg and herbs as described above. Leaving the skin/paper on onions and garlic adds to the flavor and color of the broth. (Wipe any dirt from onion skins.) This is one reason I like organic! Try not to do this too far ahead. Onions are best used when they’ve just been cut!

Add your prepped veg and herbs gently so as not to splash yourself.

Turn the heat down to med-low. You want your broth to just simmer gently. No more boiling. It will take some practice with your particular stove to find out what works. Fiddle with it and check frequently. You want itty bitty bubbles just breaking the surface.

Cook for at least 8 hours, and up to 16 or even 24 hours, for a clean flavor with all the nutrients pulled out into the broth. Try not to stir while it cooks. (That can cloud your broth.) You can put on a lid, partially covering the pot, for part of the cooking time to lessen the amount of water that cooks off, making the broth somewhat less concentrated, or leave the lid off and allow it to reduce more, concentrating the flavors. If you put the lid on, you’ll need the turn the heat down to keep it from coming to a boil. Turn the heat up a bit if you take the lid off. We’re still after those itty bitty bubbles!

If you wish to add additional water during cooking to increase the amount of broth, you must use very hot water, about 180-190 F.

Now is the time when you get to inhale the magic while you throw in a load of laundry and go back to your writing, pick up a paint brush, or teach your kids to play Cribbage…

When you’re happy with the color and flavor of the broth, remove from the heat and allow your marvelous creation to cool an hour or two. Scoop all bones and aromatics from the broth and discard them. (They’ve given all they had!) Remember that you’re going to use this broth to add flavor and nutrients to other recipes. Please resist the urge to add salt or adjust seasonings now.

After scooping out bones and so forth from the pot, strain into another container through a fine mesh sieve, being sure to get all the bones. You may use some of the broth immediately, if you care to. Otherwise, chill broth overnight in the fridge. You’ll know you’ve got a great batch if it gets jiggly, like soft Jell-O! (If not, it’s still a miracle! Just keep practicing.)

Transfer chilled broth to quart- and pint-sized plastic containers, (or the sizes that work for you) preferably BPA free. Leave 1 inch headroom, as broth will expand when frozen. Label, including date, and freeze until needed, up to 6 months. I try to thaw frozen broth overnight in the fridge before using. When that isn’t possible, thaw on counter and monitor so that it doesn’t start to warm.

Let the magic begin again!

’twas the night before Thanksgiving…

…and all through the house, all the creatures were stirring. Thanks be for no mouse!

It’s about time to add the magic dry brining potion to the turkey who’s been thawing in the fridge since Monday.

The rice cooker is busily engaged in making wild rice for our pseudo-stuffing rice pilaf, which will be complete with dried pomegranate flavored cranberries, fresh herbs from the garden, and spicy pear sausage from our friend and gracious art supporter, Rusty, at Pine Street Market.

The food processor is waiting on deck to shred the brussels sprouts for roasting tomorrow with Pine Street salt & pepper pork belly, diced Granny Smith apples, and toasted pumpkin seeds.

And there’s homemade bird soup thawing for gravy.

I’ve spent much of the day doing my artist thing. Let’s say that I’m making progress…

IMG_6381We decided to escape some technical aggravations and duck out for a couple of last minute errands, with a stop for lunch at our favorite local spot, The Corner Pub.  I was feeling grateful for friends to cook for us and a fabulous burger (hold the bun!) when I noticed a volunteer delivering this barrel for the holiday community food drive which was a vivid reminder of just how many things we have to be thankful for.

In fact, that’s one of the growing edges on my journey. Intentional gratitude.

Not just at holiday time, but every day.

When I’m writing and painting, certainly.

Or stashing good, local, humanely raised food in the freezer.

Or thinking of family.

Or helping Luther out the back door and down the steps.

In fact, if you’re reading these words, know that I’m grateful for you, too!

And for the community that has supported my growing. (There’s an art party invitation hanging at Corner Pub, too!)

That gratitude makes it easier to live some of my most cherished beliefs in community. Peace. Justice. A safe, clean planet. Helping girls and women to find their voices. Hope.

There are, of course, days that I feel too small and insignificant to make a difference. And then I remember the normal, every-day, cherished people who made differences in my life and I crawl out of my flannel sheet and quilt coccoon, and flap my wings again.

May it be so for us all, in this time.

Blessings to you and yours… 

 

Thanksgiving Came Early For Me…

Bill and I have a long tradition of moving holidays to more convenient times for us to celebrate. I guess we got started by getting married on a Thursday before I graduated from Seminary on Sunday. (My family was already in town!)

Then there was the Thanksgiving we moved to Friday after an all night rescue run. Not dogs. A battered mom and her kids in desperate need of shelter.

More recently, Valentine’s Day, both our birthdays, and an anniversary… all postponed until we could leave Luther home alone.

Quirky, perhaps, but it works for us.

This year, Thanksgiving came exactly one week early.

Not the food part. The freezer is still full of local, sustainably raised, pastured turkey. I found the wild rice stash. Bill’s started foraging. We’re actually planning our semi-traditional holiday dinner for, you know, Thanksgiving Day!

On Thursday the 21st, however, I was a very busy volunteer, being thankful for a couple thousand people, most of them college students, gathered to listen to another guy I’m thankful for, Senator Bernie Sanders. The rally was held on the campus of Morehouse College on the day following the Democratic debate in Atlanta.

Please hear me say that I’m not sharing this experience to get you to vote for my guy, though I’d be thrilled if you did. Mostly, I want to share the hope of that moment in our history together.

The rally was held in the plaza outside the Martin Luther King, Jr. International Chapel. And, yes, that’s a statue of Dr. King, presiding, as it were, over the day.

It was gorgeous, if a bit chilly. (I have a sunburn to prove it!)

The crowd was in high spirits. I have a very short video I wish I could post here but, in addition to my technical failings as a videographer, apparently this website needs updating (Oooops!!!) and it won’t post.

So, it’s time for reader-participation. Imagine, if you will, some really upbeat music playing wherever you are. The kind that makes you want to move.

Then imagine at least 50 enthusiastic young people dancing to that upbeat music in a style that might be explained as similar to, but groovier than, country line dancing. Kind of a flash mob sort of a thing that just moved my spirit to watch.

And the Morehouse choir was, as always, thrilling.

I spent much of my time answering questions, checking in Invited Guests, hunting up the sign language interpreter, and handing out signs. Lots and lots and lots of signs.

IMG_6318And then Bernie began to speak. And, somehow, in that place, I hung on every word, clapping and waving my sign, while my heart was filled with these words of Dr. King’s for, boiled down to the core, this was what I heard Bernie saying.

And Bernie has been living these words since the days when Dr. King was saying them aloud.

I made some new friends, Thursday. And had an odd conversation with a guy who told me I was too old to vote for Bernie. When I asked why, he responded that old people were too conservative.

After a couple of deep breaths, I replied simply that I’m for Senator Sanders because I have grandchildren growing up in this world and he’s the one I trust with their future. Then, I added that many, many grandmothers of my acquaintance are among the most progressive folks around!

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And, I suspect it was my Grammy-heart that saw, in this tiny, pink Bernie angel, the reason that justice and dignity and decency and opportunity matter so much.

And probably also part of my inspiration, when the surprise opportunity presented itself, to hug Jane Sanders and thank her on behalf of all the grandmothers who care about the things she and Bernie care about for their family and all of ours.

Clearly, there are Rabbit Holes, even in Atlanta!

 

Sue Boardman, Certified Intentional Creativity®
Color of Woman Teacher & Coach