Sleep and Floods

Sleep evades me tonight like so many nights since TBHITW passed on.

It is hard to believe that a year of "firsts" has come and gone.

I find it difficult to cook. The one thing that has always brought me solace. Peace. And nourishment eludes me.

My tiny town has been devastated by Hurricane Irene. So many people's homes and lives have been forever altered. Yet, I remind myself that it is just stuff. Thankfully no one lost their lives in my community. Yet so many others up and and down the east coast are just beginning the grief journey. A road full of twists and tormented turns that they will have to travel alone. Even with the help of wonderful friends and family they will have to find their own route. Mothers, fathers, children, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews, co-workers, grandparents.. so many people touch our lives that it is hard to imagine how many grieve when someone leaves this world.

For every one person gone, a village weeps.

I have forever changed my opinion on death. At one time when I read or heard of someone passing on I would think "poor thing.. so young, or so tragic or too soon". Now - I think of the survivors and what they have to bear. The sadness sometimes threatens to take my breath away.

I spent 36 hours defending my home against Irene. Thirty-six hours of my heart beating out of my chest as the winds and rain battered our home. At one point my youngest son and I  bailed water for 3 hours -from one in the morning until four am. Arms screaming with the exertion. Water coming in through the laundry tubs and sump pump faster than we could bail. I prayed. I bargained. I asked both Jim and God to help me. And my prayers were answered. Unlike 50% of my little town my home suffered just minor damage. A cracked chimney. A downed tree. Some water damage to the ceilings. Others were not so lucky; they had to be evacuated from their homes, walls collapsed as did foundations. Cars were washed away along with precious family memories. But they survived. And I survived, albeit lonely, scared, and wishing every minute TBHITW was here to help us.

Now the clean up begins. Power was finally restored to our town. The community will rebuild, fix, move forward. Like grief, the torrent recedes and everyone moves forward.

Life goes on.

The Journey

I spent a few days at the ocean this week.

What is it about the soothing ebb and flow of the waves? What is it about standing where the sky meets the sea and sand that calms the heart and opens the mind?

Whatever it is I am grateful for it.

I am seeking peace and grace in my life. I have stopped asking why. I am coming to the end of one journey and tentatively beginning another. Where the journey leads is not the point. Where the journey ends is not the destination. The journey itself is the road to finding myself.

One evening I walked for a very long time on the beach. I let the surf crash over my feet. I watched young lovers walk hand in hand secure in their right to a loving future.

I drew in the sand.

And I watched as the never ending waves washed away my words.
And I cried.
And when I was done crying I brushed the sand off myself and walked on. A new journey with no destination in mind other than grace and peace.

I'm Going To Be Okay Because and Pappardelle's Pasta

It has been 10 months since TBHITW (The Best Husband In The World) passed from this life into another.

Ten months of the most intense feelings I believe any human being can experience. Loss, loneliness, quite introspection, rivers of tears and oceans of fears.

As I reflect back on the last ten months I realize that I have learned more about myself in this time than I have in my entire life.

I have learned that everyone has their own journey.
I have learned that everyone carries with them their own sadness. And sometimes regret. (I have a few, but then again too few to mention) Someone should put that line to music.. (wait a minute... sorry, I was just channeling TBHITW's humor)
I have learned to speak more softly. And with more kindness.
I have learned to listen more closely.
I have learned that I am stronger than I thought.
I have learned that love never dies.
I have learned that I am going to be okay. I am going to live.

I am going to be okay because today:
I laughed. At myself.
I smiled.
I did not get impatient in the grocery store line.
I talked with a good friend about very real stuff.
I forgave a good friend about really big stuff.
I began planning a party and was (and am) excited about it.
I looked at pictures of TBHITW and did not cry - I smiled at the memory and gave thanks for them.
I worked in the garden and was happy.
I looked up at the sky and gave thanks for the sun, the clouds and then the gentle rain.
I began making plans for MY future.
I am cooking again and planting again and eating again.

Recently I ate some of the best pasta I have ever eaten in my life and for the first time in a long time I ate  with gusto. I then promptly went online and ordered more.

Pappardelle's Pasta. OMG.

I discovered Pappardelle's Pasta by accident. A few weeks ago (or a few days.. time seems to blend) I attended the NJ Food and Wine Festival with my good friend Judi. It was a beautiful day, perfect for tasting local wines and food. Pappardelle's had a booth set up with their pasta wares and on a whim I bought a pound of their Lemon Chive Angel Hair Pasta.

A few days later I found myself rummaging about in my pantry trying to decide what to make for my dinner. A boiling, salted pot of water later, a few drizzles of olive oil and some shavings of fresh parmesan and I was in heaven.

If you are a pasta lover, want to become a pasta lover, think pasta is over rated or are bored with your grocery store's offerings, run, walk, google, click, do whatever you have to do to experience this eating nirvana. Pappardelle's offers a wide assortment of flavored orzo, dried pasta, fresh pasta and sauces in addition to a gluten free line. I promise on my name "The Good Cook" you will not be disappointed. Like I said (with my mouth full) OMG.

And this is how I know I will be okay. Not only will I be okay, I will survive. I have friends, I have family, I have a love in my heart that death cannot steal. And I have my passion for truly exceptional food back.

Bon Appetite.

A Cook's Notes: Pappardelle's did not pay me or offer me any compensation for writing this post. IN FACT - they don't even know I wrote it. Their pasta is just that good.  Look for more recipes in the future as I develop, taste and whisper thank you to the pasta gods more recipes featuring Pappardelle's Pastas.

The Quilt of Dreams

If you have been reading this blog for sometime you know that a little over a year ago I started a quilt. The quilt was meant for TBHITW and my new home. The home that we had been dreaming about. 

On over 12 acres of pristine land.

A log home located on land with a federally protected trout stream; clean water, fresh air, room to roam.

And a garden and animals.

But some dreams are not meant to be.

But a quilt was started nontheless.  On February 8th, 2010 to be exact. And completed today, March 22th. 2011.

Quilt update.

I remember in March of 2010, as I was beginning the actual quilting of the fabric, after all the cutting and piecing and sewing, asking TBHITW to add just a few stitches to the quilt in his own hand, him balking.. after some coaching, he finally did. I am so pleased that those two random stitches exist in this completed homespun creation. It will warm me for years to come. Just two random stitches, guided by my hand and my needle and my thread.. who could predict that a single thread could mean so much.

Old time quilters will tell you that you have to name your quilt. I named mine:

Photo Edited by Linda (TBHITW'S Wife)

Tonight, I sleep under a thousand stitches in time. The most beautiful stitches made by TBHITW.

He Saved Every Card and Sage Crusted Boneless Pork Chops

My local library is conducting a book donation drive.

Both TBHITW and I were avid readers. The difference? TBHITW was also a pack rat. In his early twenties he worked off shore on an oil rig. They would work 12 hours on, 12 hours off with 3 weeks on the rig and 1 week off. Plenty of down time and plenty of time to read.

TBHITW spent those six years working off shore reading every classic ever written and he saved each and every one of them. Dickens, Hemmingway, Twain, Steinbeck, Vonnegut, Rand, you name the book and I guarantee it was shoved into an immense bookcase in the master bedroom.

I spent the better part of this afternoon disposing of dusty, decaying paperbacks and sorting through the hard bound copies that I will donate to the library. There are a few books I will never part with as they speak to who TBHITW was.

Since I was on a roll I decided to clean out his nightstand. There, shoved among Geologic periodicals, old National Geographic magazines and an assortment of other paperbacks I found every anniversary and birthday card I ever gave him.

I sat with my legs crossed on the bedroom floor and read each and every one of them. Instead of tears today I smiled with the memory of a life filled with love.

This is one of TBHITW's favorite dishes, I hope it becomes one of yours.

Sage Crusted Boneless Pork Chops: serves 2

Two boneless pork chops, about 1 inch thick
2 tablespoons all purpose flour
1 egg, beaten
1 cup fresh bread crumbs
2 teaspoons dried sage
1 tablespoons fresh sage
salt and pepper
Olive Oil (about 2 tablespoons)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Dry the pork chops with a paper towel and toss with the flour seasoned with salt and pepper.
Season the bread crumbs with the dried sage.
Dredge the chops in the egg and then press the fresh bread crumbs into the chops, coating all sides.
Set aside to "dry" for 10 minutes.
Heat the oil in a skillet and add the fresh sage leaves, move the leaves off to the side and add the pork chops. Saute until golden brown on both sides - about 3 to 4 minutes per side.
Place on rack set on a rimmed cookie sheet and finish cooking in the oven for about 10 to 15 minutes.

Serve with simple buttered bow-tie noodles and a small mixed green salad.

What do you save for years and years?

Five Months, Seven Days and How to Reheat Pizza

It has been 5 months and 7 days since TBHITW died.
There.
I said it.
He died.

What have I learned?

I learned:
that one can be alone without being lonely.
that it is okay to cry.
that it is okay to laugh.
Anywhere. Anytime.
that asking for help does not make you weak.
that no matter how many times I ask God to bring him back, TBHITW is not coming back.
that asking why is futile.
that love doesn't die.
that I didn't die; just a part of me.
that tears are endless.
that sleeping and eating and exercise are important; more now than ever before.
that people care.
that people don't understand (mercifully).
that life is truly a circle.
that many, many people mourn.
that grieving has no time frame.
it is personal.

I've learned a lot the last 5 months and 7 days. Much more than I can write about here. Like I said, grief and mourning is a personal journey. It takes you places you never dreamed. Or want to dream about.

I've also learned the best way to reheat leftover pizza. Leftover pizza was never a problem when TBHITW was here.

So. Let's review:

Oven. nope.

Microwave (don't even think about it)

Frying Pan - read on.

Wipe a large, nonstick skillet with a paper towel saturated with a bit of olive oil*
Place over medium-low heat.
Add as many slices of cold, leftover pizza the pan can hold. Or as many as you can eat.
Place a lid over the pan and wait.... (theme song from Jeopardy playing in your head)
Check after 2 minutes. Recover if the cheese is not melted.
(theme song from Jeopardy repeat).
Check again.
The cheese will be melted, the crust will be crisp and you'll swear the delivery man just handed you a piping hot fresh pie.

*Do not, I repeat, do not use spray oil (aka Pam) on a nonstick pan. This will ruin your teflon - it will become sticky and useless. I have forewarned you. Go forth and use a paper towel saturated with olive oil.

Love,
The Good Cook

A Letter and Chicken Cordon Bleu

Dear TBHITW,

The housekeeper fired me. Yup. I got dumped.

Seems that Otilia doesn't think I need her anymore. With you gone and Jake and Julia away at college the house just doesn't need as much keeping as it used to. 

Zach and I pretty much live in just a few rooms of this old house and even those rooms (for some reason) don't need as much tending. 

So she dumped me. In the kindest way. I asked her to stay until the New Year and she agreed. After that I'm on my own in keeping this place in tip top shape. 

I noticed that in the kids' bathroom some of the grout in the shower was coming loose. I went to Home Depot this morning and bought a grout saw, grout, a rubber float and grout sponge. I spent the morning sawing out the old, loose grout, then regrouted. After it cures for 24 hours I'm going to rechaulk.

YOU taught me how to do that. Remember? When we were building and renovating this old house some of the work (to save money) we did ourselves. 

We laid the tile in the kitchen and bathrooms and after I knew enough about the wet saw and tiling and grouting I did the backsplash in the kitchen all by myself. 

Those were the days, weren't they? We were either too young, too dumb, or too broke to hire someone to do the work for us so we dove right in. We did pretty good too.

Thanks for teaching me some of the things I need to know.

Love you, miss you.

The Good Cook

TBHITW had a few recipes up his own sleeves. This recipe is one of his old stand-by's when he was out to impress me. It is the best Cordon Bleu I have ever eaten. Impressive for family and good enough for company. He taught me one or two things. 

Chicken Cordon Bleu (serves 6)

3 whole skinless chicken breasts pounded flat*

8 ounces Swiss cheese, sliced

8 ounces sliced ham

3 tablespoons flour

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

6 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup white wine**

1 chicken bouillon cube or 1 teaspoon stock base

1 tablespoon corn starch

1 cup half and half, milk or heavy cream (depending on your cholesterol level)

Spread chicken breasts flat; fold cheese and ham slices to fit on top and fold breasts over filling and fasten edges with toothpicks.

Mix flour and paprika in a shallow bowl or pan and coat chicken pieces.

In a large skillet over medium heat melt butter until hot. Add chicken pieces and brown on all sides. Add wine* and bouillon. Reduce heat to low; cover and simmer 30 minutes or until fork tender and juices run clear. 

In a cup, blend the cornstarch, milk, cream or half and half until smooth. 

Remove chicken to a plate, remove tooth picks, slice into 1/2 to 3/4 inch rounds and  tent with foil to keep warm.

Add the cornstarch blend to the pan with the juices and simmer until thick and smooth. 

Top the sliced chicken with the sauce and serve immediately.

*Pounding isn't pounding at all. Turn the chicken, shiny side down (skin side) and beginning at the center, use a sweeping motion to "pull" the chicken flat and thin. 

**If you are avoiding alcohol simply substitute chicken broth and omit the bouillon. 

Thank A Soldier

XEROX IS DOING SOMETHING COOL 
  
If you go to this web site, www.LetsSayThanks.com   you can pick out a thank you card and Xerox will print it and it will be sent to a soldier that is currently serving in Iraq. You can't pick out who gets it, but it will go to a member of the armed services. 
  
How AMAZING it would be if we could get everyone we know to send one!!!    It is FREE and it only takes a second. 
  
Wouldn't it be wonderful if the soldiers received a bunch of these?    Whether you are for or against the war, our soldiers over there need to know we are behind them. 
  
This takes just 10 seconds and it's a wonderful way to say thank you.    Please take the time and please take the time to pass it on for others to do.  We can never say enough thank you's. 
  
Thanks for taking to time to support our military! 

A Cook's Notes: I sent a card from TBHITW. I choose the one from Michigan as it was his home state. I am all about honoring the men and women who serve this country. Won't you do the same?

Tinsel and Caviar Pie

TBHITW loved Christmas. 

It's as simple as that. He LOVED Christmas. 

He loved everything about it. EVERYTHING.

Every year he would take a day off from work to shop. He loved the music (always started playing Christmas music officially on the Friday after Thanksgiving). He loved the malls that were decorated. He loved the crowds. He loved the lights, the food, everything. 

But he especially loved tinsel on the Christmas tree. 

He had a special technique for putting tinsel on the tree. He would grab a handful, stand back about 5 feet and throw it at the tree. 

Me, I'm a one strand on each branch kind of girl. 

Because we believe in compromise, one year he would get his method of tinsel and the next I would get mine. 

This worked for many years until about 2 or 3 years ago when I relented and just let him have his way. He got such joy out of it... who was I go argue? 

This morning as I was showering, getting ready to take my grandlittles to see The Nutcracker Ballet (featuring The Moscow Ballet Company - yes! Those Russians can dance).. I was thinking about Christmas and all the gift giving. My DIL had suggested that in addition to the Ballet tickets I might want to fund the grandlittle's winter swimming lessons. As I was showering I was thinking perhaps that was too much. The tickets to the ballet, lunch, etc.. would be enough of a gift. (yes, I was thinking cheap)... When I stepped out of the shower, there, on the bath mat was a single strand of tinsel. 

Now let me tell you.... I have not dragged out a single ornament. Besides, my bathroom is on the third floor - 2 stories away from where we store the Christmas ornaments. How did it get there?

I stopped cold in my tracks (in my towel) and stared at that single strand of tinsel. Then I started laughing. Then I cried. Then I laughed again. Then I went into the office and wrote out a check for swimming lessons. 

TBHITW continues to guide me. And I will be putting a bit of tinsel in every Christmas card I send this year. I might even throw it by the handful onto our Christmas tree. 

This is a decadent, beautiful dish. Easy to make and lovely to serve on a buffet table. 

Caviar Pie: serves 15-20 people

1 10" springform cake pan
1 doz. eggs, hard boiled & cooled
1 1/2 tbsp. mayonnaise
1 med. onion, finely chopped
1 lg. pkg. cream cheese
1 sm. container sour cream
1/2 tsp. lemon juice
1 (4 oz.) jar lumpfish caviar

Finely chop eggs and combine with mayonnaise. Spread mixture evenly in springform pan. Sprinkle onion over top of mixture. Mix cream cheese, sour cream and lemon juice together until smooth and spread over the onions and egg mixture. Cover pan.Chill for at least 4 hours, overnight if possible. Just prior to serving, run knife around side of pan, remove springform side. (Set pan on serving platter first.) Spread caviar on top. Serve with a variety of crackers.


A Cook's Note: This may sound expensive but the entire pie, excluding crackers, costs approximately $12.00 to make and will serve about 15-20 people. Use black lumpfish or for a really festive look choose red lumpfish.

Angels and Answers

I have a set of Angel Oracle Cards.

Don't get crazy.

The deck of cards is used as a daily meditation. You shuffle the cards with your intention in mind and randomly select one. It is very much like praying. Or saying the rosary (if you are a Catholic).

I select a card everyday with my intention and question to the universe, "what do I need today".

Today has been a very emotional day for me. Full of tears and lonliness and sadness for my loss. I am missing TBHITW with all my heart and soul. My meditation today was not so much a question as a cry out to the universe to help me. To guide me. To heal me. To please give me strength and guidance and some peace.

The card I pulled today is the Heart Chakra card, its meaning:

"Love is the heart of the matter. Your heart is the center within your physical being attuned most to love. It's safe for you to love and be loved with an open heart, as we stand by with perfect protection and guidance."

Further reading of this card:

"The angels gave you this card because the answer to your question rests within your heart. The more you open your heart, the more love, joy, and peace you'll feel. You can open your heart chakra by asking the angels to end their healing energy, by visualizing your heart surrounded by pink light, by inhaling the fragrance of pink roses, by holding or wearing rose quartz crystal, and by focusing on love."

Additional meanings for this card:
Send light and love to your heart chakra. Take very good care of your cardiovascular health through exercise and healthy eating.

Here's the kicker:

"A departed loved one who passed on from a heart condition is saying "Hello, I love you". Have a heart to heart conversation" 


Sometimes the universe listens and answers when we need it most. I had a very long conversation with TBHITW and feel like I can face the rest of today.

And today is all anyone really needs to get through isn't it?

Tell Me A Love Story

Sometimes, at night, if I could not sleep I would ask TBHITW to tell me a story.

He was a very good story teller.

He would recount the days when he worked offshore on an oil rig in the Gulf Coast.

Or sometimes he would tell me about long, lonely drives back to Michigan for the holidays and how he would listen over and over again to classic holiday songs. "I'll Be Home For Christmas, White Christmas, Joy To The World".

Other stories would be about training for a race or a marathon. Or how he learned how to cook.

Or the jobs he held in high school.

Some of my favorite stories were about him in high school and college and dating.

You see, TBHITW, was a world class, how do you say it? Nerd. Yes, nerd.

Hey, don't get mad at me. I happen to think "nerds" make the best husbands. They don't know they are handsome and they are devoted to their profession, their families and their communities. Nerds also happen to be very smart and humble and honest and well, you get my drift. I always tell my daughter, marry a nerd and you'll be happy for the rest of your life.

Anyway, he would tell me stories of failed dates, awkward moments, and perceived shortcomings. He once told me how he had asked the most popular girl (of course she was a cheerleader) in high school to the drive in movies. He said she never even took her seat belt off through the entire movie. LOL..

My very favorite story of his was how he fell in love with me.

It is late and I can't sleep.

Will you tell me your love story?

If you don't want to post it here, you can email me at thegoodcook@verizon.net

There is nothing I love more than a good love story and I promise to hold your story in my heart until I fall asleep.

A Little Day

Today I met my daughter in law and grand littles at my CSA farm for a day of apple and pumpkin picking.

We fed all the baby animals.

Climbed on mountains of hay bales.

Took a hay ride up into the orchard and picked apples.

It was glorious.

And fun.

The girls were silly.

Just like we were once.

And Hannah and Jillian picked their very own pumpkins for Halloween. My only rule was they had to be able to carry their pumpkin of choice their very own self. That was always our rule. They chose wisely. A Nani (and a Poppie) has to have at least one rule.

I didn't think I could do it. TBHITW and I and the kidadults have always made a pilgrimage, every year, to pick apples, eat apple cider donuts and haul pumpkins together. Fall was his favorite time of year.

But I did it. And I had fun. So the tradition continues.

TBHITW would have smiled.

Memories:

Things He Did and Places He Went

He witnessed glaciers. In Iceland and Montana.

He rode a horse up into the Bob Marshall Wilderness. And camped for three days.

Then he white water rafted down the middle fork of the Snake River for another four days.

He saw the Aurora Borealis.

He went to the land of the midnight sun.

He parasailed in the Cayman Islands.

He scuba dived the Caribbean and Hawaii and Bermuda and Florida and the Bahamas and off the Eastern Coast. A few times at night.

He learned to surf.

He lived in Michigan and New Orleans and New Jersey.

He flew kites at Kitty-Hawk.

He saw lava flow into the ocean and form new land.

He ran in the NYC Marathon.

He hiked in the Grand Canyon.

He saw Meteorite Crater.

He saw the Petrified Forest. And Napa Valley. And Big Sur. And The Muir Woods. And the crookedist street in the country. And Monterrey Bay and Cannery Row. And the southern most point in the United States (Key West).

He visited Alcatraz.

And Acoma, New Mexico.

He stood in Four Corners.

He ate dinner in the oldest Adobe House in Sante Fe, NM.

He worked on an oil rig.

He flew in a helicopter.

He rode in a hot air balloon.

He saw a geyser.

He swam in a natural hot spring.

He sailed in a lagoon with icebergs. And drank vodka that was iced over a million year old ice cube.

He biked through the Normandy D-Day sights. And walked the beaches of Omaha, Utah, Sword, Juno, Gold, and looked over the precipice of Pointe du Hoc. He cried at the Normandy Cemetary.

He saw Paris. And London. And Mount St. Michel.

He collected shells in  Sanibel, doing the famous Sanibel Stoop.

He saw 1,000 year old petroglyphs and traced them with his fingertip.

He crawled through Mammoth Cave in Kentucky.

He saw Stonehenge. And Big Ben. And London Bridge. And the Eiffel Tower. And Notre Dame. And The White House.

He dug for fossils in Wyoming and Nevada. And skied in Utah, Colorado, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, New Hampshire and Vermont.

He was an excellent skier.

He jet-skied in the Bahamas.

He saw whales breach off the coast of Maine. And learned to rock climb.

And camped on the beach.

He went sea kayaking and seals followed his boat.

He went to Disney World. And Epcot. And Universal Studios. And Sea-World.

He swam with dolphins. And giant sea turtles, in the wild.

He fed Manta Rays. And sharks. And he wasn't in a cage.

He won money in Las Vegas and Atlantic City and on a cruise to Bermuda.

He toured Hoover Dam. And went to the top of the Empire State Building. And The World Trade Center. And The Statue of Liberty. And Ellis Island.

He saw the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace and The Tomb of The Unknown Soldier.

He drank good wine and ate good food.

He attended The New York Academy of Film and made a movie short called "Dirty Water Dogs".

He did a geology talk every year at our childrens' schools. And brought unusual rocks for the children to touch.

He loved me.

These are some of the things he did.

How Am I Doing?

I have a motor running inside of me 24/7.
It is a constant buzz in my chest. It never stops.
I've never had this feeling before.
I guess they call it stress.
They say that loosing your spouse is the highest stress factor someone can experience.
Who are they and how dare they say anything? What do they know?

I sit for hours on my front porch on one of the two matching rockers we have.
We were going to put the rockers on the porch of our new home.
The home that was going to look out over 12 acres of beautiful land.
That was our dream for the future.
The land is for sale.
That dream is gone. It died on August 11th.
I don't have a dream for the future now.
Dreams are for young and silly people. People who don't know that life can come crashing down in a moment.
I am not young and silly anymore.
So I sit and rock. Mornings turn into afternoons. Afternoons into night.
Sometimes in the middle of the night I wrap myself in TBHITW's warm blue robe (the one I sleep with) and sit out on the porch and rock. All alone.
During the day people walk by with babies in strollers. Husbands and wives and children and dogs.
They don't see me sitting here on one rocker, an empty rocker beside me.
Maybe I'm invisible.

I have found the perfect diet.
Fifteen pounds lost in 5 weeks.
It's that motor that never stops.
It's the buzz in my chest that won't quiet down.
It makes my hands tremble.
My hands never trembled before.

I read TBHITW's autopsy report.
It was obscene and disgusting and I don't think anyone should ever read an autopsy report of someone they love. Ever.
I cried for my beautiful husband's body and the indignity of it all.
I cried for me.
I cried for us.

I shouldn't be driving a car.
Everything startles me.
And mostly I'm scared - all the time.
Of everything.

I had TBHITW's cell phone service cut off. Now I don't even have his voice.
And I'm afraid I'll forget what he sounds like.
But I have to be practical, right?
Dead people don't need cell phones.

I sleep (when I sleep) on his side of the bed. On his pillows. I guess they are my pillows now.

I am going to cook tomorrow night. Maybe I'll eat too.
Maybe not.
Maybe I'll just cook.
Apples.
Apples are coming into season.
Fall was his favorite season, and winter.
We always went apple picking. And I'd make pie.
And applesauce.
And apple crisp.
And spiced apples.
And we would buy cider donuts and drink apple cider before going home with our bushel of freshly picked apples.
Last year we went apple picking late in the season. There weren't that many apples left on the trees. But we picked enough.
We always had enough.
I think maybe the colors of fall will be hard to look at this year. Too vibrant. Too real.

That's how I am doing...

Chocolate Cake

It is supposed to rain today.

I have been wishing for a rainy day for weeks now.

I think I would like to walk for hours in the rain. Without an umbrella.

My brother invited me to an NFL kickoff party today. He lives about an hour away. I said I would come but I'm going to call him and tell him I changed my mind. I don't think I can be around that many people, that much noise and that much excitement about a game.

I baked a cake yesterday. Not just any cake, but my grandmother's chocolate cake.

My nanny died fourteen years ago. She was 93 years old and she baked the best chocolate cakes you ever tasted. German chocolate, red velvet, and this one.

I've only shared this recipe with one person. And I made her swear to never share it with anyone else and never tell my sisters that I gave her the recipe. She lives in Arizona so I felt pretty safe they wouldn't find out.

It's a pretty easy cake to make. You put everything in the mixing bowl at once, then beat it up and pour the batter in the pans and bake it. Voila.

I put everything in the mixing bowl and turned on the mixer. Nothing. I looked and realized that I hadn't plugged the mixer in. I'm a little foggy these days.

So I plug the mixer in and WHIRRRR - batter flew everywhere. In my hair, on the cabinets, the counters, down my shirt, there was even batter in my shoes.

Two months ago I would have let go with a string of profanity that would make a sailor blush. TBHITW would have rushed in and gotten upset to see me upset. He would have said to me "it's just cake" and I would have yelled, JUST CAKE? LOOK AT THIS MESS!

Yesterday, with chocolate cake batter flung high and low and dripping off the walls I stood there and laughed until I cried.

I think my grandmother was teaching me a lesson. Don't sweat the small stuff.
I think TBHITW would have been proud of me. If grief is growth, I am growing.

I'm going to share this recipe with you because what good is having the best chocolate cake recipe in the world if you're not going to share it? Just make sure to turn the mixer on slowly.

Nanny's Moist Chocolate Cake: makes a 2 layer cake

Preheat oven to 350. Set the oven rack in the middle of the oven.
Butter and flour two 8 or 9 inch round cake pans.

2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
3/4 cup cocoa
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 cup hot coffee
1 cup milk
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla

Put everything (starting with the dry ingredients) in a large mixing bowl. Plug in your mixer. Beat on low speed (trust me on this one) until well combined. The batter is very thin.
Pour into prepared pans and bake in the center of the oven until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out with a few moist crumbs clinging to it, about 35 minutes.
Cool in pans for about 10 minutes, then invert onto racks and cool completely before frosting.

A Cook's Notes: I cleaned everything up and started over. The cake came out beautifully. I frosted it, gave the 16 year old a piece and gave the rest to my neighbor. Like I said, what good is having a great cake recipe if you don't give it away?

Angels Walk Among Us

Friday nights were always date night in this house.

When the kids were young that meant family dinners out. Nothing fancy. Chili's. TGIFriday's. Cheeseburger In Paradise. Pizza.

As the littles grew Friday nights changed. They were going to football games. Or had to work. Or met friends for a movie.

Friday nights became TBHITW and my date night. Better restaurants. Fancier fare.

And always, around 9:00 pm TBHITW would ask me, "What's our toddy?". We always shared a cocktail and relaxed into the weekend on Friday night. Not big drinkers, it was our one evening a week to unwind with a libation. I would go through the list: wine, or a cosmopolitan or an appletini.

Friday nights are hard, lonely nights now.
I eat alone.
Or sometimes don't eat at all.
I read. I cry. I go to bed.

Last night around 8:30 pm someone knocked on my door. When I answered it, I found my friend Anne standing on my front porch and she asked, "What's our toddy?"

She made me laugh.

I made cosmopolitans. We sat on the patio in my backyard and burned a healing candle that her oh so wise daughter gave to me.

My neighbor has lights strung all across his backyard and their glow, along with the candle were just enough to soften the darkness of the night.

Sometime around 11:00 pm my neighbor came out and leaning over the fence, handed us canoli from Carlo's Bakery (you know Carlo's, he's the Cake Boss).

The sixteen year old came out and joined us for canoli.

And we sipped cosmopolitans and ate our canoli under the glow of a thousand stars and a healing candle.

Angels walk among us and we call them our friends and neighbors.

Cosmopolitans: makes 2

1 cup vodka of choice (I LOVE Tito's. A small distillery out of Texas. If you can find it, try it!)

1/2 cup Cointreau

Juice of 1/2 lime or splash Rose's lime juice

1/4 cup cranberry juice

Crushed ice

Fill a shaker with crushed ice. Add the vodka, Cointreau, lime and cranberry juice. Shake vigorously for 30 shakes. It HAS to be 30 shakes. Really hard. The perfect martini has tiny slivers of ice crystals floating on top. That keeps it cold from the first sip to the last.

Sip with a friend on a starry night. 

3:00 AM

I am sitting on the couch, alone and sobbing and TBHITW comes into the room and sits down beside me.

I rest my head on his shoulder and say to him, "I miss you".

He sighs and quietly says, "I know" and the tips of his fingers gently brush the tips of my fingers.

And I wake up.

It is 3:00 AM.

And I lie in bed trembling with the reality that I am going to long for him and miss him for the rest of my life.

When the sun finally rises, I get up and start another day without him.

Walking Through Jello

This Grief thing is hard.

It is work.

It is like walking through Jello.

Or thigh high mud.

It is arduous.

It is exhausting and confusing and stupid and shameful and full of guilt and anger and sadness and aloneness.

I started reading Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's book, Grief and Grieving, The Five Stages of Grief.

She died before she saw her last book in print.

She is amazing.

She knows me. She has seen my pain and is explaining it to me, step by agonizing step.

It helps to know I am normal.

It helps to know that others have (and every minute, join me) gone before me in this journey.

I hope TBHITW meets her on the other side.

As I talk with my family and friends I have found out that TBHITW has been busy. He has been visiting people. Even some of you. I take these accounts into my heart and it makes me smile.

He lives.

As I told the 20 year old tonight, away at college, over the phone, he lives in us. The 20 year old dreams of him. It is comforting. I assured him that is his dad. Visiting him, caring for him.

TBHITW's brother called me today to tell me of his dream. TBHITW was on a houseboat. His brother asked him what he was doing on a houseboat, he reminded him that he was dead. TBHITW replied, "this is the waiting place". "What are you waiting for?" TBHITW replied, "heaven". On a houseboat? And TBHITW replied, "We get to choose our waiting place, I chose, this. Beautiful, right?"

Yes. A houseboat would be beautiful.

I made salmon yesterday. TBHITW did not like salmon so I never made it for him. But the 16 year old and I love salmon.

I found cedar papers that I had bought a while back. I marinated the salmon in brown sugar and ponsu sauce, wrapped it in the cedar papers and grilled it. I made tri-colored couscous and fresh steamed green beans. It was sweet and smoky and sad and happy and everything that life is. You get to unwrap it when you are ready. Just like a present.

In The Beginning

When TBHITW and I first met we were two broken people.


You see we had both been married before.


We had been married to people who were unsuited to us, people who did not love us the way we wanted to love or be loved.


And that broke us.


Because who we were, and from where we came from, marriage meant something. Marriage meant promises and commitment and love and respect and all the good things that being in a solid partnership can bring.


But we were married to the wrong people. People who didn't share the ideal.


Long before we met, we both ended our marriages. And it was sad. It was sad because divorce is the death of dreams. Of hopes. Of promises. Of the future that we all imagine when we imagine we are in love.


And then we met each other.


He courted me. And I courted him.


And over the course of two and a half years we came to trust each other. And love each other. And know each other. And respect each other. And we both thought, "hmmm... this is the way it is supposed to be". "This is what happiness and partnership looks like".


So we married.


The April before we got married (August 4th.) we went to Europe together. We spend two and half weeks traversing England and France. We visited London, riding the tube and walking the squares and eating and drinking in smoky pubs.


We crossed the channel from Portsmouth to Bayeux and biked the entire D-Day map. TBHITW was a history buff and we used Stephen Ambroses' book, "Citizen Soldier" as our map.


We slept in an 11th. century manor house.
We drank Calvados, the local apple brandy.
We drove to Mount St. Michel and watched the tide roar in at 60 miles an hour.
We rented an Alpha Romeo and with the top down, we drove to Caan and took the train to Paris.
The City of Lights.
We stayed on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées  and witnessed the finish to the Paris Marathon. 
We strolled under the Arc de Triumph. 
We went to the Eiffel Tower. And Notre Dame. And the Louvre.
We walked beside the canals. 
I spoke high school french. 
We ate wonderful food and drank cheap wine. Everyday we ate cheese, chocolate and bread. And because we were young we didn't gain a pound or worry about cholesterol.
People mistook us for honeymooners and we didn't correct them. 


When we got home we began planning our wedding. And our new home. 
I was moving from Pennsylvania to New Jersey where TBHITW already owned a home and a business. 


So it began. 


Our rehearsal dinner party was a picnic at a local suite hotel, with a pool. People swam in the warm summer evening. We BBQ'd and ate sushi. My sister's room was on the pool side so guests climbed in and out of her window to get to their own rooms or grab an extra drink. Other guests of the hotel, thinking it was a hotel happy hour, joined us and we let them. 


Family and friends came from all over the country to celebrate our wedding. Everyone said, "you look so happy" "I haven't seen you so happy in years" "Look at the two of you". 


We walked down the aisle together. 
No one had to give us to one other. 
We had already given ourselves to each other. 


For our "real" honeymoon we both decided that it wasn't fair to people (or to us) who had travelled so far to only get to spend a day or so together. 


So we rented a 10 bedroom beach house and invited anyone who wanted to come along with us. 


The beach house was not one of those new monolithic McMansions you so frequently see on the Jersey Shore. 


No, this house was old. It was clapboard. With porches that wrapped around its floors on every level. The kitchen had an enclosed screen porch that sat 18 for dinner.


It did not have air-conditioning, but had whirling ceiling fans in every room. Even the four bathrooms. 
It did not have a dishwasher because, really, if you are cooking for 18 people don't you think some of the 18 will help with the dishes. Over music and wine? Of course everyone pitches in.


Seventeen people came on our honeymoon and stayed the week. 


It was glorious. 


And I wouldn't go back and change a thing. 

Mashed Potatoes

I have had a craving for mashed potatoes for several days now.

I really don't know why as I haven't had an appetite for going on three weeks. (really, is it possible that almost three weeks have passed?)

Tonight, after a decidedly long and difficult day discussing legal matters with an attorney I decided to satisfy the mashed potato craving.

If it were just me that is all I would have made.

But it's not just me.

So I set out to make steamed mussels, (a favorite of TBHITW), shallow fried cod (a favorite of the 16 year old), mashed potatoes and steamed green beans.

I steamed mussels in garlic and cilantro and wine.
I dipped the cod in egg, then panko and shallow fried in oil with a big sprig of cilantro in the oil to flavor it.
I steamed green beans with lemon and salt until al dente.

And I made mashed potatoes the way TBHITW made them. It made me smile because while I did all the above, plus peeled and boiled the potatoes, the ricing was always his job. And it was a big deal.

He would load a warm bowl with a half a stick of butter, a chizle (we made words up around here) of heavy cream and a sprinkle of sea salt. Then, making a big production about having massive arm muscles he would rice the potatoes using a beautiful stainless steel ricer I bought just for him.

He would then gently toss it all together, mound it in a bowl and drizzle a little more melted butter over the buttery, steaming bowl of perfectly mashed potatoes. He would then proclaim, Dinner Is Served.

With a smile on my face and tears in my eyes I ate mashed potatoes tonight.

And it was all good.