From the Pink Shed is A Year Old!

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Dear Reader:

I became a blogger one year ago today! I celebrated the occasion with cake…vanilla with strawberries and whipped cream! There was champagne, too!

When I was young, I had a pen pal and I loved it. As an introvert and a writer, it was the perfect way to connect. Now, I feel like I have many pen pals from all over the world. There are so many wonderful people to meet in the blogosphere.

Blogs and Bloggers I Love:

Sal’s Blog – Irregular Thoughts From A Regular Guy

Gardening Nirvana – Sharing my journey in and out of the garden

Marie McLean – Reading/Writing/Banter

silkannthreades – about the little things in life .

Killing Time – movies, tv, etc.

Busy K – You must do the things you think you cannot do. 

OTV Magazine – Shout out to Shareen Mansfield!

And, Tamara Jare at My Botanical Garden – You were one of the first to follow my blog. I have your art in my shed.  And I feel so close to you that it’s hard to believe you are 6,000 miles away! We will meet someday; I’m sure of it.

I took the time today to look back at the “letters” I’ve written to you, dear readers. It was fun to see which posts were your favorites and reflect on mine.

Most Popular Posts:

Hopelessness and Heroines

TGFT!

My Journey to Strong: Chapter 2

No Regrets

Posts I Like Best:

It’s Not Over Until It’s Over

She’s Flying

Maui Time

AND…all of the above!

Thank you Kristin, Beth, Laurie and NATALIE!

Cheers to blogging,

Michele

Chocolate Me, Please!

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Dear Reader:

Last night our neighbors joined us for cocktails. They always bring a treat of some kind when they visit and usually it’s a pink one! This time, though, I was surprised by the presentation.

“Oh, that’s for Tom,” Marietta said as I enthusiastically reached for the Lula’s chocolates.

“Um…oh…really?!” I exclaimed.

“Well, I just read your latest post,” she continued, “and we can see that you’ve lost weight.”

“Well, you really weren’t that big,” Frank added.

Oh, how I love my neighbors! After I thanked them for both the compliments and the truffles, I explained that I do still eat chocolate. (If you are contemplating sending me a box, dear reader, please feel free to do so!)

My personal trainer, Jonathan, has given me a suggested menu and I follow it in a flexible manner. I’m eating more protein and vegetables and generally less food, but I still have an occasional treat. I can’t imagine living without wine or dessert, in moderation, despite my new appreciation for salmon salad!

Tonight, however, I will be eating clean and skipping alcohol in recognition of the fact that I drank and ate more than I usually do last night. When friends come to visit, I’m an “eat, drink and be merry” kind of gal. You can’t take the Italian out of me.

Michele

Oh, How I Love Cyclamens!

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“…a cyclamen that looks like a flight of butterflies, frozen for a single, exquisite moment in the white heart of time…”
Beverley Nichols, Down the Garden Path

 

Dear Reader:

Tis the season for cyclamens! These wonderful flowers look good in my garden in white, in my home in red and in my shed in pink, of course!

I’ve read that on the Mediterranean Island of Cyprus they grow in great drifts of thousands of plants and fill the air with fragrance. Perhaps, someday I’ll see that, but for now they have arrived in great quantity at my local nursery.

I came to associate the flowers with Christmas when I began dating my husband in high school. His mother, Mary, has a bright green thumb and she has always decorated her world with growing things.  At the holidays, the entrance to her home was filled with white cyclamen. They sat in a long line on a console table underneath a large mirror. It was a simply elegant way to greet visitors, and it remains a beautiful memory for me.

Mary will spend Christmas at our home this year, and there will be  white, red and pink cyclamens to greet her!

Michele

Pie and Memories

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Dear Reader:

My husband drove me to town today to pick up the pies. He let me off at the curb and circled back for me as there was no parking. I hobbled into a small local restaurant known for their amazing baked goods, among them: roasted pumpkin pie with mascarpone whipped cream.

I happen to be known at this restaurant (not surprising)! The owner noticed my bright pink ankle support and unusually slow, wobbly gait.

“Falling is so scary,” she said. “Glad we could do the pies for you. Now I’ll get someone to help you carry them.”

A young man appeared at my side with the pies in his hands. He waited until my husband arrived on the street in front of us and wished me a Happy Thanksgiving. I wanted to thank him by name, but I did not know it. He introduced himself as “Matthew.”  I assured him that I  would not forget that name.

I happen to know the derivation of his name. “Matthew” is from the Hebrew and it means:  Gift of the Lord. It was my beloved brother’s name and he was most certainly a gift.

I felt my eyes fill with grateful tears. It’s been sixteen years since Matt died but he is always with me. I will forever be thankful for him.

Michele

The Comfort of October

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“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”

—L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

Dear Reader:

There’s something so comfortable about October. It’s a month to simply enjoy. It doesn’t ask much of us, unlike November and December that bring with them expectations and responsibilities.

This month I’ve enjoyed:

  • artichokes in balsamic with sun-dried tomato aioli (bubbles on the side)
  • a visit to a pumpkin patch with three lovely Cal Poly students
  • hot chocolate with whipped cream on top
  • cozy sweaters, warm socks and dachshunds in my lap
  • pumpkin bread, pumpkin lattes, pumpkin everything

I  ask only a couple of things of myself every October:

  1. I begin my holiday shopping! It gives me such pleasure to find the perfect gift for everyone on my list. (My daughter’s birthday is December 20th, so I get to buy twice as much for her!)
  2. I fill up bags of food and warm clothing to donate at my local food bank and homeless shelter. It is somehow even more rewarding to help others as the holidays approach.

And every year I find myself, quite unconsciously at first, reflecting on the year that is drawing to a close and the year ahead of me. The chill in the air and my plans for the future exhilarate me in a way that the month of January does not. I love October!

Hope you’ve had a wonderful month, too.

Michele 

My Favorite Kitchen

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Dear Reader:

I started another writing course this week through Stanford Continuing Studies; I’m having trouble with it. When I write to you, I decide on the topic. But, today,  I’ve been given a writing prompt that I must adhere to!  You, dear reader, now have the opportunity to read my first submission to the class: an essay about a “memorable kitchen” with a bonus recipe!

 

I’m not much of a cook, but I do love to eat so it seems appropriate that the only kitchen I ever really loved was a kitchen that I did not cook in. It was very small and it existed in a different time. One could move between the sink, table, stove and refrigerator with just a few steps. It was brightly lit with three windows counting the one that occupied the top half of the back door that led to the herb garden. There was no dishwasher or microwave, but the phone resided there on a tiny table adjacent to the stove.

This kitchen was alive. I can not picture it empty and yet, of course, it was …when Nonnie slept. I had many meals there and, without exaggeration or exception, they always satisfied me. I could tell you about the dough that was handmade, rolled and cut on the kitchen table or the sauce that simmered on the stove all day. I could try to convince you that a simple vegetable soup with a bit of pasta and meat could be a culinary delight. Or I might conjure up the image of crispels frying in a pan of oil until crispy and then covered in powdered sugar or warm honey and enjoyed with coffee.

My grandmother spent most of her days in this room. It delighted her to cook for family, friends and, of course, the clergy. She prepared meals for the priests at her church often and the bishop was thrilled when his visits coincided with her food deliveries. (Priests lined up to give the eulogy at her funeral!)

Her kitchen was akin to an artist’s studio, but she generously shared it. It was calming and reassuring to simply sit and watch her mix, roll, cut and fold. She completed these repetitive tasks with great joy and precision. She did not require participation in the task at hand, but she was glad to have you step outside to pick the herbs she needed or to allow you to take over the task of frying or filling.  Often, I just sat, though, and fully appreciated the warm companionship she offered while she worked.

Truly, I loved everything Nonnie cooked and baked, but it is a small meal in a mug that I remember most fondly. I would love to share the recipe with you!

 

Nonnie’s Beaten Egg Breakfast

Ingredients:

  • strong coffee
  • egg yolks
  • brown sugar
  • milk
  • and a loving companion

Brew the coffee while warming the milk slowly in a small saucepan. Crack and separate the eggs placing a yolk in each cup. Add a bit of brown sugar and beat the yolk and sugar together. Slowly, while stirring, add the hot coffee to the eggs to temper them slowly. Finish with warm milk to taste.

 

I remember many mornings spent with Nonnie enjoying this simple, sweet pleasure. I lived with her for several months after my parents divorced and I started college. Those coffee mornings gave me the sustenance I needed to pursue my future independently and the love my grandmother gave me remains with me to this day.

Thanks for reading!

Michele