micro happiness triggers

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I’ve been thinking about triggers. Words, events, personal history, people, a slant of light that gives rise to a memory, any and all of these can trigger a trauma response in our bodies, igniting unhappy somatic experiences, shadows pass over our faces, our hearts. I’ve also been thinking a lot about agency and focus and choice.
Nearly every morning, while I (ma)linger in bed, my husband goes downstairs to let the dog out and to get us coffee. Soon I hear the patter of Stanley’s paws running back up the stairs, and then he pogoes into bed beside me. That galloping sound? That’s a happiness trigger. Same as it was when the patter was my children, running into our room in the morning. My husband, holding two mugs is also a happiness trigger. I started making a joke when the coffee, Stanley, and my husband arrived, “Well, best part of the day is over!”
But why? A happiness trigger is the expectancy of good to come. It’s anticipatory pleasure. Surely those can happen all day long. I want to pay more attention. Here’s a few of mine:

  • waking to birdsong
  • smell of popcorn
  • self-help section of the bookstore (hope springs eternal!)
  • ping of a text from a pal
  • opening notes of a fav song (“Sweet Baby,” by Macy Gray. “All I Want,” by Joni Mitchell. “April in Paris,” by Ella.)
  • freeway exit for my hometown
  • new Lorrie Moore, Tana French, James McBride book
  • onions and butter on the stove
  • tight fist of a peony
  • smart women talking and people listening

As we move toward a covid-thaw, after the last year of struggling, worrying, managing (perhaps barely), maybe we can look for micro-happiness triggers (henceforth to be known as MHTs) to see us through while we wait for everyone to be vaccinated.  I am truly curious, what are your MHTs? Maybe your joy will become mine as well.

 


read

In addition to my regular workshops, which I ADORE, I’ve been teaching a series called Let’s Talk Craft! I mention this here because I’ve been reading, re-reading, and enjoying all over again a lot of individual stories for our discussions. Here’s just a few great story collections:

NATASHA, by David Bezmozgis is so good. This collection came out in 2005 and I am delighted that I had the opportunity to reread the eponymous story. The collection is linked stories about Russian Jews who emigrate to Toronto and the difficulties of navigating two cultures. Funny, smart and wrenching.

ANTON CHEKOV STORIES, translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky is something any writer should own, but if you don’t have it in you to read a collection, you can find “The Lady with the Little Dog,” here. It is a gorgeous story about how even a cad can surprise himself by his capacity to love. Plus, the way in which Chekov conveys boredom with a watermelon is amazing! You’ll just have to read it.

HEART SONGS, by E. Annie Proulx. This is a beautiful collection full of weather and landscape, surprising tenderness and perseverance. The story, “A Run of Bad Luck,” is a favorite of mine. I will never unsee the  “high hat” of snow on a pick-up truck, an overnight accumulation that indicates infidelity, a man staying too long in the house. (Talk about the perfect detail!)

BARK, by Lorrie Moore. What can I say. I adore her. I wish I could have dinner with any one of her women. I particularly love the story, “Thank You for Coming.” Check this out:

 “Mom, What are you doing?” asked my fifteen-year-old daughter, Nickie. “You look like a crazy lady sitting in the kitchen like this.”
“I’m just listing to some music.”
“But like this?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You are so totally disturbing me.”
Nickie had lately announced a desire to have her own reality show so that the world could see what she had to put up with. 

Just a quick reminder, I’ve created a read.write.eat. Bookshop Store, where you can find many of the books I’ve recommended in the newsletter.

 

 

 



write

At the start of this note I mentioned triggers and somatic responses to triggers. Paying attention to those responses, the elevated heart rate, the exhaustion, the sinking feeling in your stomach, the agita, is not only good self-care (naming and pausing, baby!), it’s also good to notice for your writing.

Here’s a prompt, not only to consider how to convey emotions in your characters, but also to keep your writing butt in your chair.

  1. Think of an event that happened today, or yesterday, something which evoked an emotion in you. Record the event, but only moment to moment, through your senses. Never name the emotion. Never explain, analyze or interpret the emotion, just write the responses. After you’ve practiced this on yourself, try it for characters in your stories. Here are some cues to help get words down.
  2. Write about:
    1. Signals inside the body—temperature change, heartbeat, muscle reactions, neural change
    2. Signals outside the body—posture, gesture, facial expression, tone of voice, etc…
    3. Flashes of past/experiences of the emotion—little bursts that reference what we experienced in the moment of the event. (oh, I’ve felt this before when I was six and my mom was late to pick me up from school…) These come not as analysis, but as sense impressions.
    4. Flashes of the future—something we desire or anticipate or dread that comes to us through images, bursts of a waking dream.
    5. Sensual selectivity—our emotional culling of the environment to only let in certain clues.  For example the experience may put us into a space where we can only see positive things: the blue sky between the clouds, the tiny blooms on the azalea, etc… Or, of course, only the negative things: the ribs of the stray cat, the painfully scabby nose of the man living outside, the car driving slowly down the street with smoky windows.
  3. I encourage you to try this prompt when you feel stuck in your work, or when you feel a character isn’t coming to life on the page.

If you’re interested in working with me, check out these two upcoming classes. Let’s Talk: Scene online through Grub Street on April 3rd, find it here. My Craft Talk: Setting class is online through Literary Arts on May 15th, find it here. If a class/discussion on Dialog, Writing Beautiful Sentences, Plot (Meaningful Action), Endings, or Revision sparks your interest, shoot me an email and I’ll keep you posted.

 

 

 



eat

I’ve been seeing articles and listicles about what we will abandon from the before-time, and what new habits and behaviors we’ll all maintain after the covid-thaw. One thing I know, I’ve permanently given up underwire. A thing I won’t give up? You’ll have to wrestle me to the ground to keep me from making the sauce that got us through the pandy.

Not. Joking.

I think I made it eight times. I kept frozen quarts at the ready. We had it on scrambled eggs with sauteed chard. On mushroom ravioli. With meatballs of every variety. We added more red pepper flakes and put it on shrimp and linguini. I ate spoonfuls while staring out the window, mystified and depressed at the rain and the empty streets. When our power was on-again-off-again during the ice storm, we simmered it and had it on cheesy polenta. I’m telling you, with this sauce, you can’t go wrong! Thank you, Ina Garten.

Arrabiata Sauce

2/3 cup good olive oil
1 c whole peeled garlic cloves (24 cloves…not joking!)
2 (28-ounce) cans whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes
2 t whole fennel seeds, crushed
1 t crushed red pepper flakes (+ or – to taste)
1/3 c dry red wine, such as Chianti
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  1. In a medium pot or Dutch oven, warm the olive oil over medium-low heat. Add the garlic and cook for 10 to 12 minutes, tossing occasionally, until the garlic has softened and is lightly browned. (Watch carefully. Don’t get cocky and look away or it will burn and you’ll have to peel all that garlic again. You don’t want to do that!)
  2. Meanwhile, drain the tomatoes, place them in a food processor fitted with the steel blade, and pulse until they’re roughly chopped. With a slotted spoon, transfer the garlic to the food processor and pulse again to chop the garlic. Pour the tomato mixture into the pot with the olive oil, add the fennel, red pepper flakes, red wine, salt, and black pepper to taste. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer for 30 minutes.

Pretty much I’ve just given you the keys to the kingdom! Put this on anything and you will be happy.

 

 

 

dinner party? my version of heaven!

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Blah, blah, yeah, yeah—it’s been a year since we all locked down. I had planned on a big ol’ note about all the things that saw me through, 49 things, or 72 things, or a nice round 100 things. But then I saw so many articles, lists, and posts, I got bored. Yes it’s been a year. And, yes, I watched a lot of tv. I baked cakes. I read a few books. I knit a poncho!! I learned to mix up a damn good Boulvardier. But I’m ready to look ahead. Vaccines are rolling out. We’re seeing movement toward opening up—schools, restaurants, our homes, spring buds, the fragile green of newborn leaves.
We hosted our first dinner party (see menu below), indoors and mask free. Since all four of us had been vaccinated, we actually hugged! It was amazing. Hang tight. Change is coming.

 

 

 


read

My poor students must be so sick of hearing me wax poetic/drone on (depending on your point of view) about George Saunders’s newest book, A Swim in a Pond in the Rain.  In it, Saunders shares a story from a Russian Master, and then unpacks all the things we have to learn from the work. Not only do we get to read Chekov, Turgenev, Tolstoy, and Gogol, but we get to learn from Saunders, enjoy his wit, and his deep humanity. Really, just get the book.
To entice you, here’s a quote in which he discusses Chekov’s story, “The Darling.”

At the beginning of the story, we love Olenka because we perceive her to be good; in the middle sections we feel distant from her. In the end, we love her again, but in a deeper way: we love her even though we have, by way of Chekhov’s guidance, been urged to take her fully into account. We love her even though we see all of her. Maybe we didn’t know we could do that, love a person this deeply flawed, someone who is, arguably, doing harm (to a kid no less), but now we know that we can, at least for a little while.  

For me, love may be the wrong word. What feels more true is that I understand her yearnings, I know her, and therefore her humanity, and therefore my own. I stand beside her in acceptance and solidarity. Being a human is sloppy and hard. Wow. Literature does make us better people. Thanks, George!

I also read a gorgeous story in the New Yorker. “The Winged Thing,” by Patricia Lockwood. She is a contortionist! Writing about such a painful situation and filling me with wonder, a few grateful laughs, and a new understanding of how people make it through. You can listen to her read her story on The NYer: The Writers Voice podcast. The story comes from her new novel, No One is Talking About This, which is now on my TBR list, as well as her memoir, Priestdaddy. Plus, I’ve heard her twitter feed slays, mine does not, though I have a running twitter feed in my head all the time and it is really funny. Just sayin’.

And a quick reminder, I’ve created a read.write.eat. Bookshop Store, where you can find many of the books I’ve recommend in the newsletter.

 

 

 



write

In previous newsletters I’ve mentioned the craft talks I’ve been offering. I am having so much fun, zooming with writers, taking a deep dive into aspects of craft. So far we’ve discussed SCENE and PLACE, next up on the schedule: CHARACTER. In the late spring and summer I’ll be offering talks on DIALOG, THE CLEAR AND BEAUTIFUL SENTENCE, and MEANINGFUL ACTION.

In our time together we examine specific texts I’ve sent off in advance. I offer handouts, prompts, and lots of discussion. My class on SCENE is at Grub Street on April 3rd, find it here. My class on PLACE is coming up at Literary Arts on May 8th, find it here. And, if you’re interested in my CHARACTER discussion, or any of the others I’ve listed above, shoot me an email and I’ll keep you posted.

No matter where you are in your writing life, you will appreciate this little gem from McSweeney’s, “The Literary Agent’s Manifesto.”

 

 

 



eat

As I said, we had a dinner party and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, or at least my version of heaven—friends around the table, feeling the love by being well fed, well cared for, laughing and listening. Wow.

I made this gorgeous Spanakopita from The Greens Cook Book, by Deborah Madison (which I’m afraid you can only find used).

 

 

Alongside I served what has become the go to chicken at our house, One-Pot Chicken with Dates and Caramelized Lemon. Plus, a butter lettuce salad with roasted asparagus tossed in a simple lemon/olive oil dressing, with flaky salt and ground pepper. We had these ice cream bars for dessert, because, come on, I can only do so much in a day!

 

 

 

 

part 3 is going to be so much better

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I know last week was a sh*tshow, and this week, all bets are off. I’ve rewritten the paragraph below again and again. Whatever’s going on in Congress when this lands in your inbox, well… what I say below is still the truth. I hope what I offer is a tiny respite. 20 January, I see you.

Welcome to Part 2! This is my salutation in lieu of Happy New Year. Of course I wish you all happiness in the new year, but I’m also managing expectations. We’re still in it. Part 2 promises to be better than Part 1, no doubt. We’re on the cusp of a new and healthy government ????????, we have multiple vaccines coming at us, but there’s going to be some continued suffering. Please, mask up, wash your hands, stay safe. The more we do all of that, the sooner we get to Part 3, which is going to be so much damn fun. Can you imagine? Invite friends to dinner! Hug your mother! Send your kids to actual school! See live music, order a cocktail at a bar, dine out! Hang on, it’s coming!

 

 

 


read

Somehow I’ve re-upped my reading mojo. It happened suddenly and thoroughly and I’m so glad. I worried my attention span had been forever atrophied.  Along with my renewed hunger for reading, I’ve built a read.write.eat bookshop. You can find many of the books I suggest all in one place. In the coming weeks I’ll be loading the shelves with books from two years of newsletters.

First, I read Monogamy, by Sue Miller. I’ve been a Miller fan since young motherhood. I loved her novels about contemporary families that were all taking place about a decade ahead of my own family. I read about school-aged kids when mine were babies, I read about teenagers and empty nesters when I was a few years behind. I read with an eye toward the nuances of family life, all her BIG plot dramas (molestation, car accidents, arsonists) were propulsive, but I was interested, as an only child of a single mom, in the shades of family life. Monogamy is also decades (please dear god) ahead of my life. The novel is about Annie, who loses her husband early on in the novel, the story then weaves slowly and beautifully through time, grief, and a posthumous discovery of betrayal. The POV shifts often, as if to say, all of us in this soupy human experience are worthy of our own novels.

I also read (well, listened to the audiobook), Long Bright River, by Liz Moore. I snagged the book off President Obama’s fav list, and man-0-man, am I glad I did. What a gorgeous novel. I rooted for almost all the characters. A crime drama about serial murders, bad cops, marginalized women, drug addiction, a single mom, and family—those we are born into and those we build on our own. It was a beautiful and important book. As a side note, the last novel I read by Liz Moore was Heft. Another book I loved, about an oversized man and second chances.

Finally, I’ve just read How To Write One Song, by Jeff Tweedy. WHAT A GREAT BOOK. I have never listened to Wilco, so his music didn’t draw me to the book. If you are a creative, whether you want to write a song, a poem, a story, Tweedy is so smart. I suggest you listen, as he narrates and is unassuming, charming. Plus, if you do like his music, he strums and sings. At the end, any reader will be on team Tweedy.

 

 

 



write

I’m in the midst of revising my story collection… yes, again. I’ve amassed some interesting notes, some helpful notes, as well as some glib toss-offs: kill a character, create more plot drama (see Sue Miller above), make me care…(ouch!). I’ve been thinking about the sting of that last one. I’m reading a book right now, actually I’ve been reading it for about a month. I just cannot get through it. This is a book by an author I usually love.

The novel is modern day Jane Austin, rife with family troubles, bad marriages, single women trying to fit into narrow confines of acceptability, aging, grief. The writer then layers on a transgender teen, a grandma who comes out to her family, a bullied child… I know! What’s not to love? But I cannot get through it. I reach for my phone and scroll, scroll, scroll rather than read. Which led me to wonder, is the real world so fraught that the woes in the novel are just too pedestrian right now? How can a gay grandma compete with a pandemic and sedition and economic collapse and rampant racism? Plus, everything is so easy for these characters, all white, all economically comfy, and everything is resolved so swiftly.

What I ultimately realized is that I just don’t care enough about them. I need them to have more to struggle against, more ways in which they don’t feel seen, known, safe, more things to overcome, even if the obstacle is internal. Tensions and obstacles don’t have to be Sue Miller-esque (molestation, arson, car accidents), but there must be some greater tests, some deeper losses, through which the characters reveal their mettle. We’re all alive. We all know loss, struggle, pain… I want characters to know it too. Then I don’t feel so sorry for myself, so alone! Right?

I don’t know who needs to hear this: make your characters suffer so your readers can be invested and care. There. Oh, I guess the audience was ME. Thank you, for letting me beat myself up a little bit, give myself a pep talk! Hope it helped you as well.

In 2021 I will be offering a monthly zoom workshop series, Let’s Talk: Craft Talks for Writers. One Saturday each month we’ll meet and discuss craft: scene writing, characterization, setting, plot, dialog, etc… There will be readings, handouts, exercises and opportunities to share some work. If you’re interested in learning more about these monthly 2.5 hour conversations, dm me and I’ll send you information.

 



eat

Each year I set myself up with a goal, not a resolution. They’ve been things like, bake a cake a month, write a fan letter once a month, banish random and unsightly chin hair (my poor grandma was forever with a tweezer in her hand).

This year, I’ve decided to take a deep dive into one cookbook each month, preparing as many recipes as possible. For January, I’m staining the pages of Nothing Fancy by Alison Roman, given to me by my cousin. The title warms my heart because my grandma used to say that all the time. When asked about what she was cooking, wearing, reading, watching on tv, she’d reply, “Nothing fancy!” (A sort of lie, since she was the queen of matching shoes, belts and handbags and I was in awe as a child.)

So, I’m in love with this book! I’ve made:

  • Escarole w/Mustard & Spicy Guanciale Bread Crumbs
  • Perfect Herby Salad
  • Little Gems with Garlicky Lemon & Pistachio
  • Celery & Fennel w/Walnuts & Blue Cheese***
  • Sticky Roasted Carrots w/Citrus & Tahini (I actually made this twice, once as a salad, and I also deconstructed the recipe, using all the ingredients to make a soup, which I liked better than the salad. I added chicken stock and made it creamy with an immersion blender. I was pretty proud of myself.)
  • Spicy Meatballs in Brothy Tomatoes w/Toasted Fennel**
  • One Pot Chicken w/Dates & Caramelized
    Lemon ****
  • Grilled Trout w/Green Goddess Butter**
  • Lemony Turmeric Tea Cake***

I also would like to direct you to Alison Roman’s newsletter, which is terrific. I know, I’m tempting fate to get you to read another newsletter, but it is GREAT! Loads of fun and, as I said at the top of this newsletter, I want you to be happy. Here’s another food and life newsletter you may enjoy: A Wonderland of Words, which is smart and quick, insightful and delicious!

Finally, an Alison Roman recipe that I cannot wait to make:

Linguine w/Clams, Almonds & Herbs

½ cup unsalted, roasted almonds, coarsely chopped
2 T finely chopped fresh chives
2 T finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 T plus ¼ cup olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced
¾ t crushed red pepper flakes
¼ cup dry white wine
2 lbs littleneck clams, scrubbed
12 oz. linguine

Step 1
Mix almonds, chives, parsley, and 1 Tbsp. oil in a small bowl; season with salt and pepper. Set aside.
Step 2
Heat remaining ¼ cup oil in a large pot over medium heat. Cook garlic and red pepper flakes, stirring occasionally, until garlic is softened, about 2 minutes. Add wine, bring to a boil, and cook until reduced by half, about 2 minutes.
Step 3
Add clams and increase heat to medium-high; cover pot. Cook, shaking pot occasionally, until clams have opened, 5–8 minutes (discard any that do not open).
Step 4
Meanwhile, cook pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water, stirring occasionally, until al dente. Drain, reserving 1 cup pasta cooking liquid.
Step 5
Add pasta and ½ cup pasta cooking liquid to clams and toss to coat. Cook, tossing and adding more cooking liquid as needed, until sauce coats pasta, about 2 minutes; season with salt and pepper.
Step 6
Serve linguine and clams topped with reserved almond-herb mixture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

escape from the current situation

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How are you? No, I mean it. Covid infection rates are high, family—far flung or nearby—is best kept at arms-length (that is if you have an NBA players wingspan), it’s cold and dinner on the deck with friends requires a sleeping bag! I’m cooking gifts from my kitchen, listening to audio books, bundling up for long walks and ordering more outdoor heaters.


read

I just finished listening to Tana French’s newest novel, The Searcher. She does SO many things well. French tells suspenseful, meaningful stories with many moments of connection between reader and character, even if the character is a divorced, middle-aged man, a retired Chicago cop who has moved to Ireland to refurbish a farm and live a quiet life. I recognize his genuine human needs and feel comfortable in my own yearnings…to be close with my kids, to have friends nearby, to be in a community and do good work with my hands.
One of French’s superpowers is her gorgeous descriptions of the natural world. A friend mentioned to me that some readers feel the descriptions slow the narrative down. How can that be? Check this below! Not only is it vivid, but it reveals the interiority of the character who is looking out the window, and it speaks too of the nature of people in general, as illustrated by bird behavior.

The enforced idleness and the misty rain give that week a dreamy suspended feel. At first Cal finds it strangely easeful. For the first time he can remember he doesn’t have the option of doing anything, whether he wants to or not. All he can do is sit by his windows and look out. He gets accustomed to seeing the mountains soft and blurry with rain, like he could keep walking towards them forever and they would just keep shifting farther away. Tractors trudge back and forth across the fields and the cows and sheep graze steadily. There is no way to tell whether the rain doesn’t bother them, or whether they just endure. The wind has taken the last of the leaves. The rooks’ oak tree is bare, exposing the big, straggly twig balls of their nests in the crook of every branch. In the next tree over there’s a lone nest to mark where, sometime along the way, some bird infringed on their mysterious laws and got taught a lesson.
(Please forgive any punctuation errors, I took this from dictation. Remember when we had to do that in school?)

There is much to be lauded about French’s writing and this book in particular. There are surprises and suspense, stakes and, perhaps most important, an escape from the current situation.

 

 



write

It’s that time of year, when lists drop all over the place, (gifts, best & worse, movies, books, songs, dinners, cocktails…). I’ve read through a bunch of writers’ lists on the most important rules of writing and I’ve winnowed them down to what I think is crucial.

  1. (Jeanette Winterson) Turn up for work. Discipline allows creative freedom. No discipline equals no freedom.
  2. Don’t hold on to poor work. If it was bad when it went in the drawer it will be just as bad when it comes out.
  3. Enjoy this work!
  4. (Zadie Smith) Read a lot of books. Spend more time doing this than anything else.
  5. Read your own work as a stranger would read it, or even better, as an enemy would.
  6. Work on a computer that is disconnected from the ­internet.
  7. Protect the time and space in which you write. Keep everybody away from it, even the people who are most important to you.
  8. Tell the truth through whichever veil comes to hand — but tell it. Resign yourself to the lifelong sadness that comes from never ­being satisfied
  9. (Kurt Vonnegut) Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
  10. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
  11. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
  12. Start as close to the end as possible.
  13. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
  14. (Anton Chekov) Extreme brevity
  15. Audacity and originality: flee the stereotype
  16. Compassion
  17. (Elmore Leonard) If it sounds like writing, rewrite it.
  18. (Neil Gaiman) Write. Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.
  19. When people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
  20. Laugh at your own jokes.

Do you have any rules you find useful? I’d love to know!

 

 



eat

I’ve been baking pies, and stuffing squash. Also, I’ve made a fabulous new cocktail from Smitten Kitchen. You’re welcome!

Stuffed Acorn Squash (variation from this recipe)

  • 2 average size acorn squash
  • 4T olive oil
  • 2t kosher salt
  • 2t black pepper
  • 4 cloves garlic (minced)
  • 1 shallot (minced)
  • 1.5 cups sliced mushrooms of choice, I used crimini
  • 4 cups fresh spinach
  • 2 cups COOKED French lentils
  • 1/2 cup chopped walnuts
  • 2t cumin
  • Chili flakes to taste
  • 3 cups COOKED brown rice
  • Juice and zest of 1 large orange
  • 1 cup grated parmesan cheese
  • 1/2 cup dried cranberries

Prepare squash. (Preheat oven to 425°)

  1. Use a sharp knife to slice both ends off of the squash about 3/4 inch below the stem. This will prevent the squash from wobbling on the baking sheet pan.
  2. Scoop out the seeds and excess pulp from inside the squash.
  3. Brush w/olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast for 25-30 minutes. Be certain to test with a fork and make sure the squash is tender.

Make Filling:

  1. Sauté mushrooms, garlic, and shallots in a little olive oil until the mushrooms start to brown.
  2. Add spinach plus salt and pepper to taste. Cook until the spinach is slightly wilted.
  3. Add lentils and walnuts, plus spices. Let cook for 2-3 minutes.
  4. Add the rice, toss, cook for 1-2 minutes more.
  5. Sprinkle in the grated parmesan cheese and toss to allow it to melt a little. Add in the juice and zest of an orange and the dried cranberries. Toss everything together.
  6. Fill each squash half with the rice and lentil mixture to nearly overflowing.  Bake at 425° for about 7-10 minutes, until the tops golden brown. Top with more cheese if desired.

My variation on Smitten Kitchen’s Winter Warmth Cocktail:

Winter Warmth Syrup

1½ cups water
¾ cup demerara or turbinado sugar (granulated will do just fine if you do not have them)
1/2 apple, cored, and diced
1/2 pear, cored, and diced
12 walnut halves
3 cinnamon sticks, broken up
6 whole cloves
1 whole nutmeg

Make the syrup: Combine all ingredients in a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a simmer, stirring until the sugar dissolves, and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes. Remove from the heat and cool. Strain into a clean glass bottle, cover and refrigerate for up to 2 weeks. Makes about 2 cups.

For Each Cocktail
1 piece of orange peel (about 1 by 2 inches)
3/4 ounce Winter Warmth Syrup
3 dashes of bitters (I used orange bitters)
2 ounces bourbon, rye or Canadian whisky
Juice from ½ lemon or orange (I found the drink too sweet w/out the citrus)

Make a drink: Place the orange peel, syrup and bitters in a low glass and muddle. Pour in whiskey, add a large ice cube and don’t forget to share.

 

 

 

Sometimes a Little Smack-Talk Helps

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The holidays can be lovely and stressful (feel free to reverse the order or omit an adjective!). For me, the holidays are bittersweet. I miss family I rarely see. I miss times when my children were small enough to sit in my lap. I miss the anticipation and buzz of a full house, the scents from a busy kitchen, lingering at the table, and the great team my husband and I made—me cooking, him loading the dishwasher! It was fun and exhausting.

I admit to regularly weeping while I wrapped presents, alone in the living room late at night, a commercial for Maxwell House coffee would cue up, a young soldier coming home at dawn and making a pot of coffee for his family, the drip and smell woke his mom, whom he surprised. Got me every time. And now, it feels so false considering all the soldiers who come home and suffer, all the people who drink their coffee alone.

In addition to expectations pummeling us from advertising, there’s also social media’s constant portrayals of JOY!!!  Black Friday and Cyber Monday and the drive for more more more exhaust and disgust. These dark days (literally) beg for light, whether that means Chanukah candles, Christmas tree lights, the Kwanzaa Kinara, or celebrating Solstice with a cozy fire. I am so ready to embrace light (literal and metaphorical), to reinvent, to create and new rituals.

As I do, I turn to friends to find out what works.  I asked people what they do for selfcare during this freighted time of year. And, no surprise, I got a wonderful list.

  1. Dive into a book and/or a bath.
  2. Be a pillow for a dog or cat.
  3. Give yourself permission to say No.
  4. Take lots of walks.
  5. Cook something healthy…lentil soup, sourdough bread?
  6. Travel, if you can, preferably to a place where the holidays aren’t such a giant deal.
  7. Exercise.
  8. Lower expectations.
  9. Be as generous as you can, with your time, with your money.
  10. Make something: a potholder, a scarf, a pie, a short story.

Yes, this list can feel a little holier-than-thou. I recognize that sometimes a date with a trusted friend, a Manhattan, and a smack-talking session also does wonders for the soul. Just don’t overindulge in this one. Another thing that ALWAYS lifts my spirits…singing! Alone in the car is best, at full volume, particularly Alanis Morissette, this one.

Whatever you’re feeling about the impending holidays, I wish you a bright and light season which includes lots tenderness toward your heart. Here’s a little suggestion from Grace Paley’s story, “My Father Addresses Me on the Facts of Old Age:”

“…when you get up in the morning, you must take your heart in your two hands…put your hands like a cup, over and under your heart…stroke a little, don’t be ashamed…then you must talk to your heart. Say anything, but be respectful. Say—maybe say, Heart little heart, beat softly but never forget your job, the blood. You can whisper also, Remember, remember.”