In an attempt to write a blog post in the style of a buzzfeed time-sucker,
here is a list of Foods That Make Me Happy, And Why: *Blintzes These Hungarian cheese-filled crepes rock my world. They were my favorite dish growing up and also the ultimate family dish in my family. My grandfather was the Blintzes champion first, being an OG Hungarian himself, and my mother took the ritual and talent on - she is quite the dessert maker, and I now make them as often as my guilty pleasure allows me too. They are, after all, loaded with sugar. *Avocados For some odd reason I HATED avocados most of my life. But lo and behold - I move to California and suddenly I become obsessed with the green goodness. I add them to pretty much any salad and adore a good ole' avocado toast. (My fave version is a lightly toasted sourdough bread, mashed avocado mixed in with some minced garlic, lemon and salt, and an over easy egg on top.) Try 'em in smoothies too! *Kale Yes, I know! What a cliche I am. Avocado AND kale!? And to think I used to eat chicken wings (never again!) several times a week.... what have I turned into!? I don't know. But fuck it all - I LIKE IT. Kale is the BOMB. It's delicious with its crispy bitterness, and I've loved it way BEFORE it became popular. And the fact that it's healthy? Makes it even better for the health conscious gal I am. *Pine nuts Gosh pine nuts add so much texture and nuttiness to pretty much anything! Roasted cabbage? sure! Dessert? Yes, indeed. Salad? Duh. Quinoa? But of course. Try 'em. *White Truffle Oil Yes, it's a splurge, but once I got obsessed with the aroma of white truffle oil - there was no turning back. It was love at first smell. *Cacio E Pepe In Italian, this means 'cheese and pepper'. A breakfast comfort food for Italians and easily my favorite pasta. It's especially great when you have it homemade in Rome. So simple and so so SO GOOD! *Pasteis De Nata My visit in Portugal at the end of 2019, was magical in so many culinary ways. One of them was these desserts that are partly flaky and crusty and partly creamy flan like. They are addictive and bite size. Don't tell the French but these little thingies are even better than croissants! *My mother's Onion Quiche When I visit my mom's house, one thing I know for sure: The fridge will be FULL, and there will be an onion quiche in there. This quiche is DREAMY with a capital D. I tried making it once or twice, but my mother adds that little ingredient called LOVE that makes her quiche extra special. *Nutella I know. I know! 'She eats Nutella!? That's unhealthy AND has a ton of palm oil in it so it's bad for the environment!' Yes, I KNOW. Sigh... Occasionally I crave it so I cave to it. BUT - I recently discovered a vegan recipe for it so I've been shifting from the good ole' bad-for-you nutella to my homemade-vegan-nutella to keep the weight down and the forests happy. I can go on... but this list is making me hungry. I think I'm gonna go make myself ONE (or more...) of those happy dishes above. ~Bon Appetit pour moi~
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With the shift over the last couple of weeks - the sense of HOPE in the air... something else had come to visit me and it's steered at me like a rocket:
Pressure. Ah, my dear old frenemy. Always pop in to remind me that I have twenty thousand goals to achieve and time is only slipping away. That reminds me that when I tend to only one of the hats I'm wearing... the other hats will turn dusty and frail. That shows me what other people are doing in the same boat and that I really have no excuses to at least match their success. Pressure comes in to urge me to accomplish, achieve, succeed. Obviously - Pressure is mostly an asshole. Riding on my heart and mind like a bickering annoying cartoon character with a huge mouth and a loud high pitch voice yapping away its expectations of me with a raised finger. But occasionally - when it's acting more like a friend than an enemy - it gives me just a little push, a 'nudge', a much needed reminder of my ambitious desire burning in my heart. There is a line to ambition, and my frenemy Pressure likes to cross it at times. More times than not. But alas... I found an instant cure to the sickness! A quick 'go-to' for the nuisance of Pressure. Enters my dear old bestie - Gratitude. Like magic, Gratitude shows up with her slick 'I got this' attitude and shows Pressure the door. When I am in the 'attitude of gratitude' - Pressure is frozen in place, as if Attitude sprayed her fairy dust all over and told Pressure to back off. How do I let Gratitude do her magic, you ask? Well, here's my little daily trick: I write five things I am grateful for every day. Today- it's (1) the sun that shined this morning with the most beautiful light through my window, (2) my cats and their much needed cuttles, (3) my partner and his playfulness that makes me laugh a lot, (4) my imagination that never ceases to surprise me and take me on a journey, (5) the food in my fridge and the roof over my head. To those and so much more - I am grateful. And Pressure can go f**k off! Today I met up with my fear again, and the discomfort to walk through an unknown territory, so I made sure I wore sneakers for that uncomfortable walk outside my comfort zone, and that the sneakers accompanied the mantra I needed so badly to remember.
I am talking of course about Nike and their world famous messaging of: JUST DO IT. This sneakers company got its marketing right. And by right - I mean iconically right. What a great reminder to walk with gusto, fearlessness and direction. How else would I want to walk through an uncomfortable road? Thank you Nike, for the simple mantra that can break through resistance or hesitation like a true champ. I needed it today. If you follow my blog religiously. I know a couple of you DO (and I am most grateful, like for real, that's insanely cool!) then you know of my homeless neighbor across the street with his awesome 90s rock music and drunken racist behavior. A true Jekyll and Hyde of the streets of Venice.
Before I knew of his racist destructive nature, I was charmed by the homeless man who would greet every passer-by with a 'Happy Monday!', would sweep around his tent every day, and played songs from 'Grease' on his first night in the block. But sadly, the charm was replaced with disgust when I heard his racist, sexist and homophobic slurs during the protests following George Floyd's murder. He also turned from a relatively neat homeless man, to a total shit show (pardon my French) and his area which now included several tents and random furniture items looked more and more like a junk yard. My feelings of compassion and care for the person living in the street, were changing quickly into feelings of fear for my safety as I noticed the violent fights he would have with other homeless people in the neighborhood. Well, I woke up today to a new reality. A reality WITHOUT the drunken racist across the street. Apparently police had come yesterday following another violent dispute, and the guy MOVED somewhere else. Thus, leaving behind him all the junk he had accumulated and now it is occupied by ahem... NEW neighbors... I hope he finds peace wherever he is. (and um sobriety and for him to be less of a racist) and I realllllly hope my new neighbors will be better neighbors than he was. It's a fucked up reality to live on the streets. (again - pardon my French. It's just this kind of a day I guess...) and it's also challenging entering my building every day not knowing who is lurking nearby and if I am safe from harm. Every day is a balancing act. One of the many gifts 2020 had given us... Hope and Mickey turn to the audience.
HOPE: (to the audience) So we go our separate ways. Him to the right, me to the left. I don't think about it too long. Skate away and let him know I'll go find him when I get to the gas station and get some help. I am sure this is the right way to go. I mean the left. But the right one, nonetheless. MICKEY: (to the audience) If I know anything about stubbornness, is that it's darn fucking stubborn. So I promise her I'll come to her rescue once I get to the station. I give her a couple of Guinness and see her skate away with her fairy-like flaire and petite physique. I want to yell for her to COME BACK! Stay with ME! Let's get lost TOGETHER! But hell, I'm stubborn too. HOPE: (to the audience) I am kinda loving skating in my own pace without some dude trailing behind! Who needs extra weight, ya know? I even do a little dance with my skates. For my audience of cacti! Huh. It's true what they say about the sense of freedom in the desert. The nowhere, the nothingness, it's kinda awesome. A place where no one knows me. A place where I haven't done anything wrong. A place I can disappear in. MICKEY: (to the audience) Without the sound of Hope skating away like a blast from the eighties, this road is quiet. I'm sensing that quiet heaviness of the desert once again. A sound I know oh so damn fucking well. Only thing I'm hearing is the rattling from my backpack. A loud shake of my past sitting heavy on my back as I try desperately to get out of this dump. Moments before, at least I had company. Now - with only Steel by my side, I am back to my miserable life wishing I had Hope here with me again. HOPE: (to the audience) When I look closely, I see more life in the desert than I first saw. A couple of lizards walking on some rocks. A boulder or two. Each cactus looks different than the other. And the sky is somewhere between day and night, sending flashes of light on the nothingness below. Yeah, I kinda like it here. 'Kinda', because I have this eerie feeling in my stomach that something might happen to Mickey. I mean, the last time he was alone - he nearly was burning up until I came along. I hope he doesn't get lost. I hope he's gonna be okay. MICKEY: (to the audience) Hope seems to me like the kind of woman that doesn't look back. When she makes a decision - she stands by it. She's smart. Can handle anything. My old man was like that, that old fuck. Me? I get carried away sometimes, biting more than I can chew. My old man always said that. So now, I try not to chew anything at all. Instead - I drink. Mickey takes a sip off of a Guinness, and cheers to the heavens. Meanwhile Hope has taken off her skates and is sipping her Guinness as well. HOPE: (to the audience) What if he was right and this road is a dead end? He is from the desert, after all. Why did I have to open my big ass know-it-all mouth? I mean I don't know shit! I'm trailer trash raised unemployed homeless with no prospects or a dime to my name! How stupid can I fucking be leaving this sweet guy behind? So fucking dumb. And too proud to ever admit it to him. If I ever see him again, that is. I may just get eaten alive by scorpions or die of dehydration or starve to death. At least then I'll be model skinny. Wait... no - that is just my inner toxic sexist speaking up again. Ew. MICKEY: (to the audience) With every step I make my bag is getting heavier and heavier. My feet are killing me. The sweat is dripping off of me as if I was in a sauna and not in a dry desert. Steel is as exhausted as I am. We are both not so young anymore. I could just give it up and wait here. Let Hope come save me again... or let God do whatever he wants to with me. I'm at his mercy and I know it. I think I'll put my head down for a little while. Just a little nap... HOPE: (to the audience) It's getting darker and this road is NOT getting any shorter. I must have been wrong. I must have. Mickey is probably back in the gas station figuring out some help to come get me and he'll be here in no time. I might as well just sit here on this rock, rest my eyes for a minute. I mean, he'll probably be here any minute. Any minute... Hope and Mickey both fall asleep, each in her/his road, and are about to be joined in a mutual DREAM SEQUENCE. To be continued... J.C entertained the old lady a bit. Took glances at the Picasso, Miro, Rodin all spread open on her lap.
The church bells rang and J.C. broke into a laugh: 'What does your god think of this?' She pointed at a Picasso painting of a naked woman. 'I suppose... well, I suppose that the lord would... say, what do you think of this? 'Me?' 'Yes, you're the artist.' 'I think it's pretty fucking awesome.' 'What's so "awesome" about it?' 'I said FUCKING awesome.' 'I heard.' J.C was quite confused by Mother Rose's poker face. She was used to nuns being horrified by her foul mouth. 'Well?' Mother Rose pressed on, and even let a little smile show. 'Well, the colors of the background are the same as the colors of the body. It's like her body is part of everything else. The sky behind, the ground below. They're all the same. She is part of everything. And that's pretty fucking awesome.' Silence. Mother Rose took the book and looked closely at it: it was indeed fucking awesome. And J.C's perception of it was spot on - almost, she dared think - God like. 'My dear, you may keep these books. Consider it a welcome gift to' our school.' Mother Rose lead the girl to the door and closed the door behind her with a warm 'You're welcome.' In the corridor, J.C. couldn't move her feet for a moment. Not only because the weight of the three books in her hands was taking its toll, but also because what has just happened had genuinely surprised her. J.C was used to being in principal's offices, but she never walked out of them with a gift, but rather with a beating, a suspension, or even an expulsion. 'Holy Shit', she mumbled partly to herself, and partly to the heavens. 'Mother Rose is a rebel.' J.C thought to herself. The next day in the cafeteria, the girls were hovering near the announcement board. There was an announcement, and a few heads were turning, looking towards J.C. in bewilderment. J.C rushed to look what the fuss was about. Lo and behold - there was going to be an art exhibit, the first in its kind. And the featured artist was no one else but J.C herself. Or as the announcement named her: 'Lick Me' Mother Rose was standing by from a distance, giving J.C a nod. 'I think I'm going to like it here after all' J.C thought to herself, and then she took off her leather jacket, sporting her uniform with pride. J.C. was a rebel.
She wore a leather jacket to school over her school uniform, skipped class to smoke in the yard behind the gymnasium, and drew naked caricatures of the nuns on the bathroom's mirror. She would sign her so called 'art work' as Lick Me. A rumor began circulating in school that Lick Me was J.C. After all, she was the only school drop out that came from a trailer trash family and somehow found herself in an all girl catholic school in Connecticut. Of course Lick Me was her. Everyone thought so, and everyone was right. A rebel isn't always original in her efforts to venture off against the system. In fact, sometimes a rebel would be as predictable as possible in order to be seen. Because what's good about a rebellious act, when no one is there to witness it in disapproval!? The rumors came all the way to Mother Rose, the principal. After all, the girls adored Mother Rose and told her nearly everything about their lives, including who the trouble maker in school was. 'I thought so.' Mother Rose nodded to Sally and Bette as they whispered the words 'Lick Me is J.C.' with gossipy pleasure. 'Thank you for telling me, now go along dears.' And 'go along' they did. Mother Rose stood for a moment, wondered how to deal with the troublesome child who called herself 'Lick Me'. Sister Frank had the task of bringing the child over to Mother Rose's office. She was a young sister. New to the calling, and new to the school, so she took her task very seriously and ran through corridors to fetch the girl. She found J.C in Chemistry class taping pink bubble gum to the insides of a frog's dismembered body. 'Julie Clair Stanton?' Sister Frank said with her most stern sounding voice. A voice she practiced since she heard the news she was accepted as assistant teacher in the all girls school of the Holy son. J.C. rolled her eyes, picked up the bubble gum from the frog's slimy body, and placed it back in her mouth to chew on. Saying 'Yes, ma'am' with her mouth wide open. Sister Frank's face was struck with disgust. 'Dear... Did you...did you just...' 'Did I just put the gum back in my mouth? Yeah. But it's gross. 'I am sure it is.' 'Yeah 'cause it's got no flavor.' '...' Sister Frank lead the girl down the corridor. Her steps echoed and J.C mimicked her moves right behind. A rebel must always find ways to rebel. As the two arrived in Mother Rose's office, Sister Frank rushed away as if she was escaping the plague. She was eager to go along with her day and put the uneasy feeling the girl gave her - way behind her. She prayed at night for the girl. And she prayed even more for herself to be courageous with little girls like that. Arms crossed tightly, J.C sat directly opposite Mother Rose. She was not afraid of eye contact. Nor of her seniors. So she took a good look into the woman's soul. Mother Rose's eyes didn't blink, not even for a moment. It seemed as though she also was not afraid of eye contact. Nor did she seem impressed by the girl's rebellious demeanor. 'It seems you are fond of art, my dear.' 'Yeah?' 'The mirror in the ladies' room is quite the exhibit.' After a long moment, Mother Rose rose up and reached to a book shelf, scanning through piles and piles of books. J.C was feeling on top of the world as she made her principal break contact first. She thought to herself and grinned: 'this school is going to be easy.' Mother Rose presented her with a book. A book with a compilation of marble sculptures at the cover. 'Are you as good as him?' 'I'm better.' 'You are better than Micuaelangelou, my dear? 'Who?' Mother Rose handed the book to the girl, raised a brow in surprise and proceeded to scan through the books. She took a few more and one by one, handed them to the girl, flaunting her knowledge of who's who in the art world to J.C, making her uncomfortable....yet also curious. To be continued... A tingle in my chest.
A quick anxious beating heart. Breathing intensifying. That's how I sense fear. It's also how I sense excitement. But based on the story and the circumstance... my mind can tell the difference between the two. Many kinds of FEAR are out there. One - the primal one that is - is the most essential of them all: it's the survival skills fear. The fear that shows up to make us turn around in an alley at night, or tread our steps carefully in the jungle, or drive with caution when we come across a reckless driver on the highway. That's a protective fear, isn't it? Luckily (knock on wood) survival skill fear isn't consciously felt by me every day. I live in a relatively safe environment and don't particularly find myself in harm's way a lot. (again - KNOCK ON WOOD!) Yet there's another type of fear that visits me more often: When I am afraid to take a particular action. It's a fear of veering outside of my comfort zone. A fear that could make me come up against the wounded child in me. A fear that would make me grow by facing it. That is the same fear that visited me when I began writing this daily blog anonymously over six months ago. That is the same fear that I felt when I started my small business of a line of jewelry and couldn't see myself as a business woman. That is the same fear that circled in my mind and heart when I was breaking up with a boyfriend but fearful to lose the friend in the boy. That is the same fear I felt when I took on a challenging role in a stage play I had absolutely no idea how to bring out of myself. The challenging fear is my favorite fear. I view it as a bread crumb leading me in the right direction. The bread may taste stale and not tasty at all - but it's crucial for me to taste it in order to build my stamina and my capacity to grow. I am facing another one of those challenging conflicted FEAR driven crossroads right now. And boy the bread crumb of fear is so felt, it's nearly popping out of my chest! But no worries dear ones. I'll face it bravely and calmly as I have many times before. It knows it. I know it. It's a little dance we do, my buddy Fear and I. And off we go... Peace, love and.........:
UNDERSTANDING. (noun) *The ability to understand something; comprehension. (adjective) *Sympathetically aware of other people's feelings; tolerant and forgiving. *Having insight or good judgment. Seems like these days - with disinformation spreading rampant, polarization of minds, and constant state of dread (Thanks a lot 2020) - UNDERSTANDING is as present as a unicorn. And stepping away from the grand collective for a moment... how best do we understand our spouses? Our friends? Our parents? Our children? Or even more important... how do we understand ourselves? To me, it seems to start with seeking to understand. And with nurturing my curiosity to understand another person, or the way natures naturally operates, or how I am built to be what or who I am. Hope and Mickey are continuing walking/skating ahead.
HOPE: Way I see it, it doesn’t matter WHY we go. If it's God or our survival mechanism, like who cares? We'll never know for sure. We might as well just focus on the going and just... GO. MICKEY: You never want to stop and ask 'why?' or 'where to?' HOPE: No way. Won't do me any good. When I was a kid and asked 'why', I'd get a beating. Nothing good ever comes from asking why. MICKEY: (to the audience) I want to hug her in this moment. Tell her that she doesn't have to go so fast, that I'm here. That we're here. That whatever will happen is as it should be. Or as it would be. I want to tell her she'll be okay even if she stops and asks why. I want to tell her she doesn't need to be scared. I want to tell her I love her. But instead, I just... (to Hope) Oh. Shit. Hope and Mickey realize they just got into a fork in the road. HOPE: I came this way. I think it was... let's see I was driving from.... left! It's gotta be left. I think. Right? MICKEY: The road on the right looks newer... I don't know, maybe it's a shortcut. HOPE: Or maybe it's a dead end. MICKEY: There'd be a sign. A bird flies above them, in the direction of the road to the left. HOPE: Is that enough of a sign for you? MICKEY: Could be... if it was a hawk. But it was just a bird. HOPE: It was a crow! MICKEY: Oh no then. Ya know, never trust a crow. Don't they teach that in the city? HOPE: They teach that in fairytales, I guess. You must have read them too? Or did you only read scriptures as a kid? MICKEY: Only scriptures. HOPE: So, fairytales. Like me. (beat) MICKEY: We could split off. You take the left and I'll take the right. HOPE: Hey! I'm sorry, I... wasn't making fun of you. Maybe a little. I'm sorry. MICKEY: I'm not upset. HOPE: No? Oh, so you just want to split off. Just like that. MICKEY: We could see who gets there first. HOPE: Like a race? I think I'll win Einstein. MICKEY: It's not the pace, it's the road that will determine the outcome. HOPE: Okay Jesus fucking christ, but what if the roads lead to different places!? Which let's face it they probably do. MICKEY: Probably. Listen, I don't know. Call it a hunch, or intuition. But the right one looks like the right way to me. HOPE: I say the left. MICKEY: Hmmm. HOPE: Hm. Mickey takes off his backpack and sits down letting out a big sigh. MICKEY: I get the feeling you're as stubborn as I am. HOPE: That's highly likely. MICKEY: Flip a coin? HOPE: Or go off our different ways. You get what you want. I get what I want. We're both happy. MICKEY: Or we could be happy walking the same road together. HOPE: The left? MICKEY: The right. (beat) HOPE: Looks like we're on a standstill. MICKEY: Looks about right. To be continued... |
AuthorIn April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling. Categories
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Header Art: Daniel Landerman |