ich Kalliope

Thanksgiving Leftovers

     

There aren't many traditions, events, rituals or meals that can be described as typical American.  And quite honestly, most of those that can be classified as typical American, I have a bit of an aversion to. But when it comes to Thanksgiving, I like it when someone says "typical American!".

Thanksgiving, a uniquely American holiday, is by far the best of holidays.  I find myself looking more and more forward to this day every year, and the preparations leading up to it, a joyful time.  I truly believe it is because there is so much I have to be thankful for, and every year there is more. 

I get increasingly agitated by the typical American ritual of rushing Christmas, as soon as Halloween is over.  Should Santa really be in the mall before Thanksgiving?  Should radio stations play 24 hour holiday music starting November 1st?  I think you know my answer!  What's the big rush?

When I moved to Germany many years ago, I took the holiday with me.  At that time the hunt for the proper ingredients was an adventure.  I'll never forget finding cranberries at the Viktualienmarkt in Munich, and sweet potatoes.  Ordering turkey from a vendor there, who remembers us to this day eighteen years later when we visit.

This year, dinner was at our home, and with friends from all over the world, Germany, India and the U.S. we sat down for a wonderful meal.  Saying thanks for our many blessings.   

    

Leftovers are a big deal with this meal!  That's why people often insist on having the dinner at their home.  More leftovers.  We started a new tradition this year for the day after Thanksgiving.  It was a sandwich making competition with the leftovers.  Our friends are quite creative, and great cooks, so the results were marvelous.  One (my sweet husband) was disqualified for not making a sandwich, and opting for a repeat plate from Thursday.  Even with a good attempt by his old, dear friend to make a case for "invisible bread" it didn't work!  Here are a few of the creations from Team Thanksgiving 2009.  Yum!

    

Julia's Gateau a L'Orange

I became a Julia Child fan again this summer after watching the movie Julie and Julia.  It prompted me to go out and buy a copy of her book Mastering the Art of French Cooking the very next day.  With fall solidly here in the Pacific Northwest, it's time to bring the cooking back indoors.  It will be a few (sevenish) months before we are grilling Greek Taverna style again.  Having Julia's hefty, French cookbook sitting in the kitchen has prompted me to try a few of her recipes. 

This is going to be fun.  You see French cookbooks didn't have any shelf space in the home I grew up in.  Too many ingredients, too fussy, not enough lemon, little oregano, more butter than olive oil.  But you can teach an old dog new tricks, so here I go!! 

With New Year's Eve planned in Paris this year and Julia's book in my kitchen, I maybe become a French-food-o-phile (Greek rooted word) in very short order. 

First up Gateau a L'Orange [Orange Spongecake] [Πορτοκαλί κέικ]!

Here's the recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, just in case the urge hits you too!

9" round cake pan

2/3 cup sugar

4 egg yolks

the grated rind of one orange

1/3 cup strained orange juice

pinch of salt

1 1/4 cups sifted cake flour

4 egg whites

pinch of salt

1 tbsp sugar

 Preheat oven to 350 F. 

Butter and flour the cake pan and measure out the ingredients. Gradually beat the sugar into the egg yolks and continue beating until the mixture thickens and forms a ribbon. Add the grated orange peel, orange juice and salt. Beat for a moment or two until the mixture is light and foamy. Then beat in the flour.

Beat the egg whites and salt together in a separate bowl until soft peaks are formed. Sprinkle on the sugar and beat until stiff peaks are formed. Stir one fourth of the egg whites into the batter, delicately fold the rest. 

Immediately turn into prepared cake pan and run the batter up to the rim all around. Bake in middle position for 30-35 minutes Cake is done when it has puffed and browned and shows a faint line of shrinkage from the edge of the mold.

Easter Eggs for Real

There's a quote that those of us in design and color use often.  It's from Henry Ford, and he said when asked about color options for cars "the customer can have any color he wants so long as it's black".  It's kind of like Easter Eggs for a Greek Orthodox kid, "you can have any color you want so long as it's red".  It's not easy being a Greek kid at Easter time.  Your Easter falls a week to four weeks later than the "other Easter".  Chocolate bunnies are hard to come by, the dinner includes a soup that is made with lamb guts, and your eggs only come in one color!  Happy Easter.  Well actually, Χριστός Ανέστη.  Christ is Risen. 

There are probably many stories about the meaning of the red eggs at Easter.  The one that I have always heard since I was young has Mary Magdalene as the central character (this was way before the DaVinci Code made her even more intriguing).  In my book she always played an important role, because of the red egg connection, so the DaVinci Code just hooked me from the get go!

Story has it that Mary Magdalene had a basket of eggs which she took to Jesus' tomb on Easter morning.  When she arrived she discovered the tomb was empty and met with the risen Lord along a road near the tomb.  As a sign that it was truly Jesus, the eggs turned red.   Makes sense, I like it, and my Easter eggs red please.

What other stories are out there for the significance of the red eggs?  

Ma Baker

I've written here before that I am a self-professed foodie.  My husband is a fabulous a cook, and we enjoy having dinner parties with wonderful dishes, simple if I'm cooking, more complex if my dear husband is at the helm.  Cooking together with friends is another favorite, and of course the holidays gives us plenty of opportunity to cook, eat and drink for many happy hours. I have met many wonderful fellow bloggers who are committed to great food and they inspire always.

Cookies are part of Christmas, and simply put, I don't bake.  It's takes a lot of work and love, ingredients have to measured, it's chemistry really, and one needs patience to form, shape and finish.  With the best of intentions, I do not have what it takes.  But my mom sure does!

The plate below is a beautiful composition of what arrived at our door this week, shipped with care across the country, in little boxes and tins.  And yes... they taste as good as they look. Each cookie is nearly perfect, same size, beautifully crafted.  I always joke with my mom, that "when" I make cookies, they start out small and get bigger and bigger and bigger as I just want to be done!  That's not the proper attitude for cookie baking.

I'm including her recipe for a traditional Greek cookie, Kourambiethes (Κουραμπιεδες).  If there was an award (maybe there is...) for the best Kourambietha, she should win.  So if any of you are inclined to bake this holiday, this recipe would be worth trying.  Doing a bit of Kourambietha investigative work, I think her secret ingredients are the use of Cake Flour (sifted 27 more times finer than all-purpose flour) and Orange Juice.  Just a hunch, but I'm not the baker.

      

Kourambiethes                                    Red + Green

                                        

Kalliope's Favorites                             Koulourakia

And the winner is...

Ma's Κουραμπιεδες

• 1 lb. whipped sweet butter
• 1/2 cup powdered sugar
• 1 egg yolk
• 3/4 shot whiskey
• 1/4 t. baking powder
• Cake flour (Swan's Down) about 1 3/4 lb or three-quarters of a box
  
• Juice from 1 med. orange (strained)
• Powdered sugar for top

Whip butter with powdered sugar.  Add egg yolk and beat.  Add orange juice and whiskey, beat.  Keep adding cake flour until consistency is right (hmmmm....it's tips like these that trip up people like me) to form. 

Roll into 8" logs, flatten down and slice at a diagonal, about 1/2" wide.  Place cookies on an ungreased cookie sheet about 3/4" apart and bake at 400^o F for 15 minutes.  Generously sift powdered sugar over cookies immediately after removing from oven.

Tip from Kalliope: Refresh with fresh sifted powdered sugar if necessary, after shipping, or if you want your friends to think you made them yourself.  Eat them slowly, because they go down fast.

Tina and Me

I have found a kindred spirit in the comedienne and actress Tina Fey.  I've always been a fan of hers, but the deep connection I felt towards her after watching the opening skit of last week's SNL for the fifth... ok, sixth time was very strong.  We have so much in common, really.  I think we might be related.  

FOUR THINGS KALLIOPE HAS IN COMMON WITH TINA FEY

1. GREEK-AMERICANS, you thought I was kidding with the related thing huh?  We're both of Greek descent.  Her middle name is Stamatina.  I think I had a great aunt named Stamatina.

2. FUNNY, I'm not fond of the spotlight, although I'm pretty comfortable with a microphone in front of a group, and I've been told I'm pretty funny.  I'm no star, but I can make people laugh.

3. SARAH PALIN, the day after Black Friday when Palin was announced as McCain's running mate, I put my hair up at the start of the flat ironing process, grabbed my not-so-designer glasses and saw an uncanny resemblance to a certain Veep candidate from Alaska.  My husband, and a couple of friends thought that I had a good chance of getting the part of Palin on SNL.  Yes they did... they said it! The fact that I lost the part to Tina, is well-known now in most circles.  And I don't begrudge her success, although my dear friend still says I would have done a better job.  I love her for that!

4. WE LOVE OUR COUNTRY, we really do.  In an interview this past Sunday, after winning three Emmy awards and being praised for her uncanny portrayal of Palin on the SNL season opener, Fey responded with the following:

"I want to be done playing this lady Nov. 5," she said. "So if anybody can help me be done playing this lady Nov. 5, that would be good for me."

I'm here to help Tina!!  I want you to stop playing that lady too.  I hope that on November 5, 2008 that you and I only have THREE THINGS IN COMMON, unless it turns out you're my sister. 

Financial Grounds

This sabbatical is coming to an end. 

The time off was pretty spectacular from my vantage point, and if I dare say, near perfect (pfth, pfth, pfth!).  It almost felt like my sabbatical was waiting for me to experience it.  I'm pretty sure that most people feel this way about theirs too.  In any case, it was my first, and it didn't disappoint. 

Time to go back to work.  Sigh, smile, sigh again.

Last week, we were enjoying a cup of Greek coffee at Cafe Fragma on Marathon Lake with my dear cousins who live in Athens.  As I finished mine I turned it over onto the saucer, in the hopes that someone at the table knew how to read my future in the coffee grounds.  My husband did the same.  As one of my cousins picked up the cups she began to identify some markings.  Both of our cups had some markings that represent money.  Hmmm.... I asked how much money exactly.  She couldn't tell.  I asked if it was enough to retire on... she didn't know.  I didn't want to pressure her.  

OK, honestly, I'm not ready to retire.  But rest assured that pictures of the coffee cups will be presented at our next meeting with our financial advisor for future planning purposes. 

Looking for Signs

     

I believe in signs, those messages that come to you in a way that you can either choose to believe or not believe.  Depending on how positive or negative they are, goes my tendency to believe.  Simple huh?  Our journey in Greece was filled with signs, primarily road signs, but nevertheless, they led us to good places.  I believe, I believe!!

Our longest journey from our Marathon "home" was to my grandfather's village, in Central Greece, near the city of Lamia... well sort of near the city of Lamia.  My dad's dad, a gentle soul, whose name I am still proud to use as my middle name, and who keeps this fair-skinned, freckled-face, green-eyed Greek, tied to her real roots.  My papou lived quietly, and enjoyed the simple things.  I thought of him often during this trip, as we enjoyed χορτα (greens) almost every night, as they are in season.  He used to walk for miles in the summer picking bags of them (dandelion greens) for us all.  At that point in time, the palette of the young Kalliope didn't appreciate them, but today... yum! 

As we prepared for this next adventure, we were given a few more details by my dear aunt, my dad's eldest sister, who is keeper of so much that our family holds dear.  Basically, she confirmed the direction, the city and told me that along a road from Lamia to Gardiki, there is a gravel road, that is a street named after our family.  Here lives an uncle, who is a priest and his wife.  He may or may not still be living.  OK... check.  Off we go.

     

Three and a half hours later, we are on some road between Lamia and Gardiki, and a road sign, a new road sign, shiny and bright appears, with our family name on it.  Really, no kidding.  It happened just like that... a sign. 

At the end of the gravel road was a church and house, and in this house was the priest (looking quite healthy with many years to go by the way...pfth, pfth, pfth) and his wife.  We approach the house, and say who we are.  They open the gate and we are immediately with family.  They know who I am.  The last visitors they had from their US clan was almost 18 years ago, but they ask about everyone. 

    

In the cool shade of their courtyard, we sit together and do our best to share stories.  They pull out photos of my papou.  He grew up next door to where we were sitting, the house is no longer there, but it's nice to be this close.  The wedding photo of my papou and yiayia, are all laying on the table in front of me, in this little street, OFFICIALLY named after my family. 

The sign makes it official.  The connection makes it real.  I believe!

Papou the Editor

Even on an incredible sabbatical and journey, where all things seem to fall in place, and the experiences on the road and at home are what you had hoped for, a highlight emerges. 

My most anticipated visit was to the village of my grandfather, my mom's dad, my mom's stepdad to be exact.  I believe that the planning for this trip to Aghios Andreas, the small village in the eastern Peloponnese, started when I was a young girl, as I listened to my papou tell me stories of his village.  I knew I would go there someday.  This was the someday. 

I don't remember when I found out that he was not my mom's biological father, in any case it didn't matter to me.  Most importantly it didn't matter to him.  He was my grandfather in every sense of the word.  And although he passed away when I was 17 years old, his impression, his legacy and his connection to me remain very strong, and at many times throughout the recent past, gets stronger.  He did not have his own biological children, so I learned early, that nurture was as important as nature.  I thank him for teaching me by example, before I even knew I'd need to tap deep into that knowledge.

When I started writing this blog nearly three years ago, a good friend who had started her own blog, gave me some great advice on how to choose the "voice" in which I would write.  She had said that in her blog she had chosen someone that she respected and loved, someone that she felt safe with, and who she could be herself with to "write to".  I knew then, that the person that my blog would be written to would be my Papou. 

Throughout the few years that I've been writing this blog, when I struggle as to how to express myself, I think how would I explain it to my Papou?  When I find myself using words that are too complicated or sophisticated, I ask myself would Papou understand this?  A natural tendency to be a bit sarcastic and dry, is tempered with him as my "editor", and a more humorous approach is chosen.  Anger and frustration is softened as I try to express myself in a way that is not bitter, it doesn't always work, but overall, he is my trusted editor. The voice that I've found in this blog, is due in large part to him.

Arriving in the small village, it was as he described, with the town square and cafe's in the middle, a bit more romantic than the other villages of my other grandparents, but then so was he!  Honoring him by going to his village, sitting in the town square, and in front of the church, was my way of letting him know he is remembered and loved.  That his legacy lives on in me. 

    

    

Stock Up

 

We took the opportunity to do some root tracing while in Greece.  I wanted to go and be in the villages of my grandparents.  To stand where they stood, to understand the distances they traveled to better their lives but most importantly to honor them. 

The first stop was the very small village of my grandmother, my mom's mom, Elatos.  This was a fairly rough ride in the car, so I could not begin to imagine how it must have been in the early 1900's when she lived there, with eight brothers.  Lived there until she was at least 14 or 15 years old.  Reconciling the elegant lady that I knew, with the cliff-hanging village she was born and raised in, I realized that she too was an exercise in contrasts, like me.  I used to ask her wouldn't she like to go back to her hometown for vacation, I have a better understanding now how difficult that might have been for her.  Maybe she didn't talk a lot about the village, or maybe I just didn't ask enough questions.  What I wouldn't do to speak with her today, and ask her "how was it for you?".

There is no family left of ours in the village, and when we arrived it felt a bit abandoned.  There is a new church, built in the 70's, and a school house, both were locked, and there was no one around to ask about the house of my family.  The old abandoned church stood there with it's doors unlocked.  I'm not too adventurous, and get pretty creeped out by a lot of things, but I opened the old door to the church and stepped inside.  Above the door, the date of 1831 was carved in the stone. 

This was the church that my grandmother was baptized in. 

 

The iconostas was still there, most icons removed, but a few remained.  Candle and icon stands in gold stood there looking as new as the day they were placed there.  As polished and proud as the day my yiayia was christened when she was a little baby.  I made the sign of the cross and kissed the icon as we always do, and stood for awhile.  I gained strength and peace standing there.  I was stocking up on all that came before me, and putting it in a place that I can go to, remember and stand tall when times get tough.  

Walking out of the old church the view across the mountains was incredible, the possibilities endless.

This is how we do it

 

 

It's really pretty easy to create this wonderful dinner.  It takes about a day for us, but we've got the time.  Here's the recipe in case you want to try this one out!  Readers of my blog know the basic ingredients so I won't go into too much detail here, what's really important is the order in which you prepare!  Start early, in our case we began at noon.

1. Visit the local butcher.  The one you can trust to give you the best and the freshest cut of meat.  The one who is patient enough to listen, as you try to explain in Greek what you want.  In this case, ask him for 6 lamb chops.  He pulls out a large piece out of his walk-in fridge, slams it down on the butcher block, smiles and says only 6?  OK, make it 10.  Chops 10 nice size chops, and throws in a few extra small pieces that we all know are the best at the end of the grilling process.

2. Buy wine.  In this case, because we trust and now love our butcher, we ask him about the wine he has on the counter.  It's local, and is bottled in 1.5 liter plastic pop bottles.  Not exactly what we would normally buy, but he recommends the red NOT the white. Says he drinks it himself. And we believe him.

3. Buy vegetables.  Stop at a road side stand for tomatoes, cucumbers and green peppers.  In this case, stop at the stand of an elderly couple selling from, most likely, their garden.  Pick out a bag full, and they charge you 1 Euro, for all of it.  We give them 2, because we feel guilty.  You speak to them about the weather, because there is actually a cloud in the sky on this particular day.

4. Marinate the lamb.  This is the hard part, so pay attention.  Prepare the lamb chops with salt, pepper and oregano, ON BOTH SIDES.  Marinate in lemon juice and olive oil, place in the fridge.  Don't let this intimidate you.  You can do it!!

5. Go to the beach.  Spend the better part of the afternoon and the early evening at the beach.  Since you want to let the lamb marinate for at least 4 hours, you've got plenty of time.

6. Open that bottle of wine.  In this case, unscrew the plastic top.  Taste the butcher's choice wine, in this case a dark rose, that is amazingly delicious.  See all that a good butcher can add to your life? We decide we need to find a butcher at home.

7. Prepare the salad.  Make it a typical Χοριατικι Σαλατα (village salad).  Tomatoes, cucumbers and sliced green peppers.  Place a couple of good size pieces of feta cheese on the top.  You're done.  This is the absolute easiest and best salad on the planet.  No bias here!

8. Fire up the grill.  Grill the lamb chops.

9. Enjoy the fruits of your labor.  Yes, it was a long day.  The process took time, it is nearly 10 hours after we started.  Although I tried to include as many details as possible, there were many other things that we needed to do throughout the day that took up a bit more time.  For example, applying and reapplying sunscreen, can take a good chunk of time out of your day.  Finishing that beach novel before the sun goes down.  Stopping at the local bakery, to pick up fresh bread and κουλουρια (cookies).  So plan accordingly!

Kαλη Ορεχη!!  Guten appetit!

Belonging

 

We decided to spend a good chunk of sabbatical time in Greece.  Yes!  And although we are spending mornings slowly enjoying a good cup of coffee, evenings in the local tavernas, afternoons at the beach, and drinking wine and ouzo, we are not only living the life of a tourist.  We opted for an apartment on the mainland, where the Greeks go for vacation, and for living the life of a local.  It is the most relaxing, rejuvenating and restful as we put our lives back home on hold. 

Local vegetable stands selling the freshest tomatoes, peaches, watermelon and peppers.  They really do taste better here.  It must be the sun, the care and the importance placed on eating well!  There are also the crazy drivers, who risk life and limb to gain a spot in traffic, to get to that vegetable stand first.  The stops at the beach at sunset, because the temperature is so hot, and why not stand out in the water and catch up with friends before ending the day.

I am able to embrace not only the heritage that is mine, but learn to understand more deeply the sense of belonging that I am honored to have in both cultures, Greek and American.  Greece is a beautiful metaphor on embracing the past and the future, work and play, urgency and patience.  The elements rule here, as they always have.  Embracing the elements.  Another lesson learned.

Getting my Greek on!

As I've written here before I do consider myself a foodie, although I am seriously contemplating the validity of tagging myself that.  The reason for my doubt and insecurity is that in reality, I use about five ingredients consistently.  Olive oil, lemon juice, oregano, garlic... ok four ingredients.  SIX if you count salt and pepper.  Let's count them!

We're lucky to be spending about 2 1/2 weeks in Greece this summer.  So as I prepared my shopping list for the grocery store upon arrival it looked like this:

• Olive oil, direct from the source
• Lemons
• Feta cheese, which I can eat for three meals a day, and do. 
• Olives, any kind, preferably in a can which you can't find often here in the US.  Olives are my favorite, and they've gotten me into some trouble in my past.  The only time I ever got into hot water with my yiayia, was over an olive incident when I was 12 or 13, but that's for another post.
• Greek bread, although you don't have to ask for Greek bread, just bread.  Crusty, covered with sesame seeds, and never eaten with butter, and accompanies the feta cheese in 2 out of the 3 meals.
• Tomatoes
• Red Wine
• Oregano

As my friend wrote me in a sweet note before I left for sabbatical, it's time to get your Greek on! More like putting into overdrive.  As luck would have it, I found authentic Greek olives, in a can, at my grocery store down the street. 

The ingredients above went into a fresh yogurt cucumber mint dip. Perfect with meatballs or veggies.  Olives on the side.  There will be no incident, I promise! 

Next Up!

My dear husband crosses the threshold into his 2nd half-century on this planet in very short order.   It will be exactly one year and 14 days after my milestone crossing, and I'm happy to have him join my club.  It's been fun planning his fiftieth celebration, really fun.  There are a couple of events involved, and he could not be more excited about them.  Although my husband and I are similar on many fronts, we are quite different in how we choose to celebrate. 

Where as I took off for Vegas with a few family and friends, and missed those who couldn't make it, he has chosen to stay "home" here in the Pacific Northwest.  He considers this place home.  And although some distant travel is involved, many of the people he would like to surround himself with are people we have met in the last ten years.  How nice is that? 

It's helping me tremendously to ground myself where we are.  I'm not there yet.  Hey, it's only been ten years!  It's not easy for this Greek girl.  I truly believe it is in my DNA to cautiously accept outsiders into my circle.  Why is that?  I moved away from my Chicago clan almost 30 years ago.  Family is my comfort zone, and I am happy to say that this includes my dear in-laws, all of them.  They live in Germany.  Probably why Munich was home from the minute I landed there. 

We choose to celebrate differently my husband and I.  As he gets truly excited with every plan we make, every bottle of wine we choose, dinner menu selected, and every RSVP he receives, I am grateful to be on this ride with him. 

What's a pergola?

We just spent a fabulous week in Mexico, sunny and 85 degrees everyday for 8 days straight.  Wonderful.  We stayed at a beautiful place, and for the first 4 days we spent our days sitting poolside, a few steps away from the beach, enjoying the sun, water and some good books.  OK, some average books... I didn't pick winners this vacation, but I digress.

The resort offered pergola's that you could rent by the day, directly on the beach.  We convinced ourselves that we really didn't need a pergola, once we figured out what a pergola was.  Then one day when we came back to our room we had a message that said we received a complimentary pergola the next day.  OK, we'll give it a try.  You see, we didn't fancy ourselves Pergola People.

From one day to the next I went from not knowing what a pergola was, to can't live without it now.  Everything is better in a pergola.  The Bloody Mary's have more vodka, the bottled water tastes better, the sky is bluer, the book is better (ok, not even a pergola can help a bad book), the people sitting next to you (not too close) are friendlier.  As we packed our things up at the end of our first Pergola experience we contemplated renting one the next day. 

I always go through guilty moments at these times.  Do I really need this?  Aren't the beautiful pools enough?  Isn't being at a beautiful resort enough?  If it's not Greek Guilt on my side, it's German Austerity on my husbands!  I come from a people who put a straw mat on a pebbly beach and that is luxury.  They last the whole day on the beach, lined up body to body, and that's wonderful.  No umbrellas, nothing.  Just a mat a bit smaller than the body on it.  That's good enough.  It's wasn't in my DNA to want for a pergola. 

Well, it is now.  We are official Pergola People, and proud of it.  We decided we needed to reserve one for the remainder of our trip. 

Did I mention that they had a special pergola, where they offered massages right on the beach?  The luxury of a massage IN a pergola, directly on the beach, now that's going a bit too far for this Kalliope.

My time has come...

...but times have changed!

When I was growing up I used to watch in envy as my parents would get ready to go out with friends.  Back in the day they would get dressed up, and as I am not 100% sure today where they were going, what I do remember is that I wanted to go too.  I used to voice that over and over again, I want to go too.  I want to do that too.  I want to see that too.  My mom would calmly say to me "your time will come". 

In that short response to my desire to experience all right a way, I have to say that she let me know that I too would have the chance to do and see it all.  And I have.  Does this anticipation, patience building, delayed pleasure and separation between the generations still exist?  I think so, I hope so. 

There's one five year old spending his vacation at the same place we are in Mexico, and I wonder what the heck he's going to be looking forward to as he grows up.  His time has come, and how!  He's already taken over the Happy Hour club every evening, yes Happy Hour is open to five year olds.  He was drinking his Diet Coke and Fanta Orange out of the last wine glasses.  We drank our wine from little juice glasses.  OK, not bad, that's how they do it in Greece anyway... we're not in Greece.  He stood up on the buffet table to grab his handful of chips and appetizers.  And screams his way through card games when he's not winning.  I don't think his grandma ever used the "your time will come" on his mom.  They're all here, maybe I'll ask! 

I'm careful when I speak about children and discipline.  But it's a safe bet to say, I would use the "your time will come" on them if I had the chance.

Lost Fan

I lost my uncle this past week, he passed away after fighting the good fight for so many years.  This particular loss runs deeper for me, because not only did I lose my dear uncle, I lost a fan.  I've always recognized the important roles aunts and uncles play in our lives, I take that role seriously myself.  What I realized this week, is what an important role "fans" play in our lives too. 

I lost one of my biggest fans.  A fan that has spanned my lifetime.  A person who thought I was the funniest, and most-talented.  Who helped build my confidence, and my ability to believe in myself.  Who didn't miss one of my 13 years of dance recitals, or that I could I look up and see sitting in the stands with my aunt and my parents when I was a cheerleader.  Someone who loved to dance as much as I did, especially Greek dancing.  He was the best, and I learned from just watching him.  When I saw him last, we were both watching "Dancing with the Stars", and he turned to me and said, "we could win it!".   And he meant it. 

Not to say it was only positive, it was genuine.  He was my first employer, and the first and only boss to have to fire me at the tender age of 16.  He hired me back within a week, lessons learned.  Who teased me relentlessly about my feet, which I didn't show in public until I was close to 40 years old.  Fans tell it like it is, cause they can, cause they love you.   

All these years, I thought his role was that of my uncle, something he inherited because he married my mom's sister.   And that he was really good at being an uncle... he was.  What I realized this week as we laid him to rest and said our goodbyes, is that his most important role was that of "number one fan" to this niece. 

Fans are important throughout our lives.  No matter where you go, no matter where they go, you take your fans with you.  Here's to my uncle.  Here's to fans.

Guten Appetit

Another Saturday night, and the foodies are at it again.  On tonight's menu, grilled lamb chops, marinated in fresh lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper.  Typically Greek, simple and delicious.  Madras lentils, cooked with all kinds of spices, cumin, curry, lots of garlic and onion.  Fresh salad, it's all about the butter lettuce for me at the moment, a couple of tomatoes, olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  Done.  It has me thinking what we did before the pre-packaged prepared lettuce.  For a fact, we eat salad 3-4 times more often because we don't have to clean and cut it ourselves.  Lazy perhaps, but healthier for sure!  And to start the evening off, Dirty Martini's.  4 parts Vodka to 2 parts olive juice, shaken over ice, served with jalapeno stuffed olives.  So easy and incredibly delicious if we do say so ourselves.  And we do.  Guten Appetit!

With all due respect, my sweet dad makes the BEST lamb chops.  He gets them from his butcher friend, cut really thin.  He marinates them, see the details above... hey I didn't say I invented the recipe... and grills dozens at a time.  He's probably grilled a couple of thousand in my lifetime.  But I think I may have finally got it.  I don't actually do the grilling part, I need my dear husband for that.  The next time we're together, I'd like to see if any of us can tell the difference between my lamb chops and my dad's with their eyes closed.  I know just who would be around the table that would make it legit.  Game on! 

I am Witness

 

I think we're what people call "foodies" .  There's a Wiki for foodies, it says things like non-professionals to the food industry who simply like food...!  That's us, and many of our friends.  It also says that foodies are a distinct hobbyist group in the United States...  I beg to differ, some of my favorite, and best foodies live in Germany.  They may not know they're foodies, but they will soon!

My husband is a great cook, and he outdid himself on Christmas Day.  Our friends and I did our part, but he was the star.  And wow!  Cooking together and enjoying a great meal is one of the best ways to celebrate, I think.  But then, I'm a foodie.

At one point during the preparation, albeit after a glass of wine, I witnessed my husband adding butter to bacon.  The result was delicious, but seriously, butter to bacon?!?  Saw it with my own eyes.  I said nothing.

He soaked the goose in ice water for a few hours which made the outside so crispy.  Stuffed that goose with brussel sprouts, apples and fresh chestnuts.  Potato dumplings with bacon and bread cubes in the middle, thus the butter in the bacon.  A fresh salad, with pears, walnuts and chevre.  Wonderful cheeses, not to mention the homemade cookies.  I am in awe of people who bake cookies, such patience and they're gone in a single bite. Champagne, red wine and of course a bit of grappa and schnapps to help with the digestion. 

Now if you read the Wiki on foodies, they distinguish them from gourmets.  Whereas gourmets are professional, foodies are amateurs.  I beg to differ, there was nothing amateur about our Christmas Dinner for 2007.

Time for a workout.

Just how far left?

Sometimes all it takes is a beautiful day, to make you thankful and get you thinking.

It was a perfect fall day yesterday here in the Pacific Northwest.  The sky was a rich crystal blue, without a single cloud.  Rain had been predicted, so my husband and I were especially enjoying our luck on this Saturday as we were heading over to Costco to pickup some frozen Spanakopita, it is absolutely delicious.  As I was trying to decide how many boxes I would get this visit, I mentioned to my husband that I thought Costco's Spanakopita was so good, that I could serve it to my Greek family, and claim that I had made it, and they would believe me.  Of course, Greek guilt would get to me, and my Greek Orthodox Christian values of "thou shall not lie" would kick in.  But this isn't about Spanakopita, blue skies or Greek guilt.

As we drove along on this gorgeous morning, we passed George Fox University, a Christian university which offers an excellent Executive MBA program.  Globally respected for it's foundation in ethical leadership.  Nothing wrong with that we both agreed.  Except that in the United States, over the last 7 years of, all that is George W. Bush, the Christian religion has been hijacked by the conservative extremists.  Giving all of us Christians a bad name.  Kind of like the terrorists of 9/11 and Muslim extremists giving all Muslims a bad rap.  But this isn't about an MBA, Bush or terrorism.

We decided at that point that Jesus was a liberal.  After all, doesn't "love your neighbor as yourself", "blessed are the peacemakers"  and "love your enemies" sound more Democrat than Republican?  The values of diversity, inclusion and tolerance are liberal and Christian.  Comical to even put those three words in the same sentence as our conservative politicians. 

Is it too much to expect that the politicians who choose to mix religion with politics, and invoke the values of Christianity into their platforms, at least be accurate?  Why do we let them?  Isn't it up to real Christians to hold them to it?  Lying about Spanakopita pales in comparison.

(Malin & Goetz)

   
It's been awhile since I've horded shampoos, conditioners and lotions from a hotel.  Back in the day, I learned this from my dad.  He had a different style than I did, he would trackdown the housekeeper wherever she was, and ask for more.  My dad has a sweet, pleasant style, so of course he would get extra bottles.  In hindsight, I think he actually "took" those coveted little bottles right off the housekeeper's cart, but he'll have to set the record straight on that one!  There's still a shopping bag full of these little bottles in one of the closets at my parents' home, and it keeps growing...

I too coveted those little bottles for awhile, but that urge wore off years ago, that is until I discovered (Malin & Goetz) products.  My first attraction was after meeting with the fabulous design firm 2X4 who designed their packaging.  The use of honest, straightforward typography, narrative as the design element, the use of color code and positive/negative application was simple, beautiful and irresistible. The next chance encounter I had with the brand was in an apothecary in Milan where I snapped these photos.  The last rendez-vous was at a nice hotel in SoHo, New York City, where I finally got a chance to use the products.  Fabulous.  I mean really good. 

Let the hording begin.  My style is a little different than my dad's, I don't think it's as effective but it works for me.  Here are the steps I follow, it only works well if you're staying over three nights:

1. Use the product, use as little as possible.  Leave in shower

2. Products get replaced on bathroom vanity.

3. Hide new products somewhere deep inside your suitcase, keep used products in shower.

4. Repeat steps 1-3 until they stop leaving you stuff, which usually happens by the fourth day.

All in all, I walked away with a good supply of these fabulous little treasures, and now am working on a similar display to what I saw in Milan in my very own guest bathroom... in miniature.  It works for me!

O'zapft is!

Translation... it's tapped!

The official start of Oktoberfest was today, it will continue until October 7th.  I LOVE Oktoberfest, and I have a difficult time being anywhere else on this opening weekend except in Munich.  I'm not in Munich... as you will soon learn.

I went to the official Oktoberfest website to see the latest live shots from the Wies'n, and the tears started.  Oh geez.  So I went downstairs, so that my sweet husband wouldn't see me crying.  He always feels responsible when I cry homesick for Munich. 

Actually he should feel responsible.  If I hadn't met him, fell in love, and moved to the city he called home for 20 years, I wouldn't be missing it today, and in this state of despair, yes despair! 

Missing friends, the energy, my goddaughter (who was born on opening day in 1994), the beer (Augustiner Edelstoff), the grilled chicken (yes, chicken), the obazda, the pretzels, the schnapps, the beer.  So what's a girl to do when she's thousands of miles away.  Well here's what this girl did in pictures.  It helped. 

Prost! 

Yum-My-Salad

I've blogged here about my ability to make a mean Greek salad, even provided my recipe right here on this site.  We've had our share of them this summer, with fresh ingredients from our local farmer's market. Take a look at the beauty I made last week.  I substituted pickling cucumbers for the seedless.  And added a couple of yellow tomatoes to mix-it-up a bit.  Yummy!  We served it with some boneless sirloin lamb chops, corn-on-the-cob and fresh bread.  The perfect summer grill.  Of course, the company was perfect too.  My mouth waters just looking at the photos, and I wish that we could repeat this together a little more often.

An Apple a Day

Aren't these just fabulous?  And to think there's a nice, healthy apple inside.  Found these at a candy store in Seattle on 1st near the Public Market.  The red candy ones are my favorite.  They remind me of the ones my uncle used to make and sell from his popcorn wagon on Hollywood Beach, Florida.  Yum!

Home Aid

Help is on the way.  I hope, I know that is what one family is feeling today, as they prepare to meet some strangers who will help make their lives easier. 

My husband and I, together with 6 very special and talented friends, will help a family who has not had the time, mindspace or means to keep their home the comfortable, sanctuary a home should be.  They are a family whose time, mindspace and means has been focused on something much more important then how comfortable their home is.  They are caring for their sweet son who is disabled. 

That's where we come in.  Lovers of the show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, our dream was to do a project together, that would allow us to combine our professional passions with our personal passions, and a lot of elbow grease.  Come together, find a family, and put our magic to work in what will be a "Not-so-Extreme Makeover", but more of an "Extreme Facelift" or "Home Aid".

Step 1: Idea

Step 2: Fundraise

Step 3: Find a family

Step 4: Meet the family and tour the home

Step 5: Go!

We are at Step 4 today!!

I have mentioned here previously I have struggled with incredible sorrow everytime I see a child who is disabled.  And so I made it my personal goal to find something that would bring me closer to these children in a way that would help me understand their world.  Volunteering for the Special Olympics was a first step. Home Aid is a further step in that direction.

Having such special friends that share my husband and my passion of paying it forward, the benefit of many of us working for a company who matches our donations dollar-for-dollar, combining that with incredible talent, we all come out better for all of this.  Most importantly the child's whose life we will help make better by giving them a comforting place they call home.

We are always looking for more people power on the weekend of the renovation.  Lots to do, and the more hands the better!!  Join us.

Nobody's Mother

I am reading a wonderful book, a collection of essays titled Nobody's Mother: Life Without Kids.  I am content.  My life is full.  I am satisfied and happy, like most of us, most of the time.  Because my life without children was mostly circumstance, and a bit of choice, Mother's Day is still a bit of a challenge for me.  That's why I'm thankful to Lynn Van Luven for compiling and editing these 21 essays, all written by women who have not had children.  The essays are all heartfelt and honest, with a bit of humor.  Like them, in the end I have both gained, and given up, in not giving birth to a biological legacy.  It does not diminish the desire to leave a personal legacy in other ways, something that I share with the 21 voices in "Nobody's Mother".   

It takes a village...

... across two continents, two states and two counties to help me celebrate my birthday this year!  Wow.  It all happened like a fine-tuned machine, that landed 10 of us in Las Vegas.  Mothers, grandmothers and friends all kicked in to keep homes and kids moving and safe.  Time off of work, suitcases packed, flights booked and more. They made it all seem so easy, but I know that it took some planning, a lot of patience and lots of energy.  Planes, trains, cars and stretch limos to transport us to and fro, across the ocean or down the strip.  Some people I don't even know, who helped make my 50th a wonderful celebration.  Thank you and I love you all!

Bunny Hop

My friend Birdie blogged a few days ago about Easter Rabbits and the icons of Easter.  Of course, coming from a Greek family, icons of Easter conjure up some other visuals for me, but I like those of which Birdie speaks too.  Here are a few snaps I took at Easter time last year in Munich.  The decorations go from the simple, to the modern to the classical.  These icons are of the bunny and egg sort, with a few very cute hens thrown in.

 

Toast Zone

+  = happy Kalliope

Yes, I'm going to write one more time about toast.  I often talk about random coincidences, and believing in signs, and I do know that wierder things have happened then what I am about to reveal today.  But for me, this toast loving girl from the Midwest finds what happened this past Tuesday, pretty incredible. 

Welcome to the Toast Zone.

I got home from work, and there were two packages waiting for me.  The first was a new, beautiful, Alessi toaster I ordered.  I saw it up in Seattle, and had to have it.  It's all chrome and white, very shiny, a beautiful object, toast all lined up in a single row, very modern, very smart.  After years of commitment to all things stainless, I am now enamoured with all things chrome.  The shinier the better.  I am always amazed at new solutions for objects that have been around forever.  Like a toaster.  What a beauty!

The second package was another fresh baked loaf of bread from my mom.  No kidding!  Now isn't that something????

A toast to TOAST

This was a good week.  My mom sent us a loaf of her amazing homemade sweet bread, it arrived on Monday.  That meant almost a week of great breakfasts.  Not a slice was eaten unless it was toasted.   This morning I snuck down to the kitchen to make the last two small slices and have with my cup of coffee.  Toast smells wonderful too, it waifs through the house, unfortunately, because then I heard my husbands footsteps making his way to the kitchen.  No hiding the evidence, sesame seeds on the counter and in the corner of my mouth.  Good morning I said with the last bit of mom's toast in my mouth.

Which got me thinking that there's not a lot of things better than a good slice of toast.  One of life's simplest pleasures.  I come from a toast family, we try and toast just about anything.  When we look at a loaf of bread in the grocery store, we tend to make the comment "that would be great toasted".  If we're in a restaurant and the bread basket arrives, we'll peel back the napkin covering the bread and say "I bet that would be good toasted".  We once brought a homemade German stollen home to my folks, and my dad asked "can we toast that?", it was heartbreaking but we had to tell him "no".

In hindsight we always had great bread in the house, and great bread makes great toast.  Even at the heyday of Wonder Bread in the 60's, you wouldn't find a loaf of that in our house.  Much to my dismay at the time of course!   I remember sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table with my brother and she would make us toast.  Slice after slice after slice.  At that time, it was the BEST toast we ever had.  We wondered what it was about her toast, maybe it was her toaster?  We never knew. 

So today I wanted to toast TOAST.  Still one of my favorite indulgences.  I'll take mine nice and warm, a little on the dark side with butter please.

No Surprise

The only thing surprising about Barbara Boxer's comments to Condoleeza Rice at senate hearings this past week referencing Rice's "childlessness" is that people are surprised.

For those of us who do not have children, these types of comments are a regular occurence.   We often find ourselves on the receiving end of these thoughtless comments, and assumptions by those who feel that having children gives them a more acute moral compass. 

I hate to see the press wasted on this ignorance when the real topic should be Rice's dangerous Iraq position. 

But with this current, albeit momentary focus, perhaps there will be some lessons learned here, increased understanding and some sensitivity raised. 

Modern Math

+ + =
The latest creation from my sweet husband, he's not only a brilliant engineer but a fabulous cook.

It was a very, happy Thanksgiving for so many reasons. 

I heart Thanksgiving

The day before Thanksgiving for me, is one of the best days of the year.  It's all about anticipation, preparation and looking forward to the four-day holiday.  Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite holiday.  For so many reasons, the true meaning of it, giving thanks for our many blessings, the relaxed nature of it, and of course THE FOOD.  Is there a better dinner than Thanksgiving? I think not.

We are invited to spend it this year with dear friends.  We will be bringing some delicious side dishes and a pie.  So in the spirit of preparation, there's another thing I love about Thanksgiving.  THE COLOR. 
Irresistable!

 

I bathe, therefore I'm childless???

It never ceases to amaze me, the comments that come to those of us who are "childless", from those closest to us, to complete strangers.  The whole term "childless", and how often it is used is a point of contention with me.  OK, sort of obvious by the title of this entry.  Reference to someone as childless, or without children, automatically assumes that we are meant to have children.  If we don't, we are somewhat left with LESS, or WITHOUT. 

I would like to go on record here to say that I am also without cat, bird, fish, snake, RV, boat, second home, motorcycle, parachute and a firearm among other things.  Do you think it will be written in my obituary that I was RVless, fishless and without a second home?  Most likely, it will be written somewhere that I was childless, although I am doing my best to assure this does not occur for either me or my husband.

For some of us the decision to not have children was a choice, for others of us it was out of our hands.  Not unlike other decisions in life.  It does not make us more selfish, it does not give us the freedom to do anything we like, whenever we like.  It does not remove us from responsibility to help raise, mentor and support our nieces, nephews, godchildren and children of our friends throughout their lives. 

AND by the way, we take baths because we like baths, NOT because we don't have children. 

This was the latest comment given to me referencing my "childlessness".  I was on a recent business trip with a group from work, and we were staying in a wonderful place.  I commented that the bathtubs in the rooms were the same as the one we had installed at our previous home, and that it was the best tub.  The conversation went right to "who has time to bathe?".  I said I thought it was one of the best ways to relax.  Then someone said "that's right, you don't have children, you have time to take a bath". 

To those with children, I am so sorry you're bathless.

Sign Belief

I wouldn't describe myself as superstitious, or as someone who bases decisions on predictions or star alignment.  Never believed in the evil eye... but how much could it hurt to lightly spit three times on someone who has been complemented just in case.  For those Greeks out there you know the drill, someone says you look nice and then they spit on you three times, not twice... not four times, three.  Let me go on record here, that I've never actually been hit by saliva, it's more of a air blowing, kinda "pfth, pfth, pfth" sound comes out your mouth.

My family in general is a bit superstitious, interpreting dreams, and telling the future based on physical facts, like coffee cup grounds.  My one grandmother read coffee cup grounds, socially not professionally!  You always knew when she saw something not so good, she would clear her throat three times before she told the person what she saw.  Not twice, not four times, three.  I even admit to putting the jordan almonds that you receive at weddings under my pillow when I was single.  Tradition said, whoever you dreamed about that night would be the person you married.  What could it hurt to sleep with a few almonds under my pillow right?

I do believe in signs, the alignment of events, or random coincidences that show themselves to me as a sign of something that was meant to be.  Thus my sheer joy in finding out my new address.  My house number is the same as my Yiayia Kalliope, my "non-reading coffee cup grounds grandmother" who I was named after.  As my aunt recently said, how nice that there is another Kalliope living at 831.  Yiayia's been gone from her 831 for almost exactly 20 years from the day I moved into my 831.  I hope that I will be as happy in mine, as she was in hers. 

Can someone send a "pfth, pfth, pfth" my way please.  You know, just in case.

The KA LLIOPE Code

Icon of St. Kalliope

All the excitement and controversy around the release of the movie The DaVinci Code, a book I read and enjoyed a couple of years ago has peaked my interest in iconography and religious artworks.  I will state from the start that I am a big conspiracy theorist, and absolutely love the theories proposed by Dan Brown in his book.  Whether it's the idea that Mary Magdalene was Jesus' wife, whether Noah really built an Ark for ALL those animals, what is undisputable is that women played a much bigger role in the whole darn thing than they have ever been given credit for. 

My namesday is coming up June 8th, and I realized that I had never seen an icon or painting of St. Kalliope, my namesake.  So I began searching the internet for images of her, and came upon a few.  The one above hangs in St. Barbara's Greek Orthodox church in New Haven, Connecticut.  I like it the best, the color she is wearing is fabulous!! 

Her story is one of faith, courage and strength.  I like her.  I'm attaching her story, St. Kalliope the Martyr.  Although only prepared in life for motherhood as most girls were, and not for the endurance of horror and torture.  Her courage has to be seen as greater than her male counterparts. 

I'm enjoying cracking The KaLliope Code.  If I were to write the book, it would start out:

"She was 21 and unmarried which was unusual in that time, especially for one so lovely"

Kαλη Ορεχη

I celebrated my birthday this week, a couple of times!  This year I decided to have a Greek meal on both occasions.  Am I homesick?  A little.  Do I love Greek food?  A lot! 

One was a more intimate dinner with my husband at an upscale Greek restaurant, Eleni's in Portland, Oregon.  Yes, there are upscale Greek restaurants!  The second was at a traditional Greek place, Alexis with good friends.  Both dinners were absolutely fabulous, but the evening at Alexis confirms to me that the Greek culture, hospitality and kitchen is one that brings people together. 

The saganaki, flaming cheese was delicious.  Although the flame was just a flicker to what I'm used to, and the end result looked nothing like the image here.  Made with kasseri cheese, it was really good!  My dad makes a mean saganaki.  He and my nephew have a system down pat to make this at any gathering.  Have electric griddle, metaxa and lighter, and they are
ready to go, at any church festival, school ethnic festival or family dinner!

I had the BEST lamb souvlaki at Alexis since being in Greece. Not sure if it's the Greek wine, the sheer quantity of food, served at great prices, the music, the belly dancer, the relaxed, very loud atmosphere - it never fails that everyone has a really great time.  Last night did not disappoint. 

Someday I would like to take this same group of 8 people to my favorite place the Parthenon on South Halsted in Chicago, and then for an evening in Greek Town. Not sure if the line on Saturday nights is still out the door as in the past.  Back in the day you actually hoped to have to wait, because if it was an especially cold Chicago night, the owners would serve ouzo to those of us waiting in line.  Opa!!

Happy birthday to me, χρονια πολλα και καλη ορεχη!

SPA Yiayia

I took the day off from work yesterday, and spent the better part of my morning at a beautiful spa.  I scheduled a grapeseed scrub, followed by a massage.  It was wonderful.  So wonderful in fact that at one point when the massage therapist placed a heated pillow under my neck and a warm pack soaked in flaxseed oil over my eyes, I almost cried.  The wonderful aroma, the peaceful setting and thinking how blessed I was to be able to do this, it was pure bliss. 

That blissful feeling lasted about 29 seconds before feelings of guilt crept in. 

Did I really deserve this?  How hard do I really work? 

The person who really deserved something like this was my Yiayia Kalliope, my grandmother.  Now she worked.  Raising five children, tending to her vegetable garden, getting up early every morning to clean the church and fill it's furnace with coal.  She fried the best chicken.  Back in the 60's we thought she should take Colonel Sanders on.  Seriously.  When she made her chicken it was to feed about 20 of us.  She would take walks with us, always cutting down a switch from a tree before departing.  She would carry it along the way, swinging it lightly back and forth, brushing the ground.  Although she made it look like it was to brush mosquitos away, it was really a kind of a warning what we had coming if we chose to misbehave.  Can't remember her ever having to use it.

Yiayia grew enough tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers for the whole family, the whole neighborhood and possibly more.  Spending many summer hours in her garden.  I wonder if she knew she could have used those cucumbers to soak her aching feet, or refresh her tired eyes?  I can still picture what the look on her face would have been if I had told her to slice up some of her cucumbers, place them in a large bowl of cool water, and to place her feet into the mixture! 

What would she say now if she knew how I spent my morning. 

Knowing my Yiayia, I think she would say - go, do your thing, you know what's better than I do.   Not true of course, she knew what it was all about.  Family and faith, for her pure bliss.

And who knows, she may have been indulging in cucumber foot soaks on her front porch on Cherry Street long before they were brought to the masses.  This would surprise no one who knew this Kalliope!

 

Out of Africa

Yesterday I received some information about my personal history, my genetic history.  It's an ancient story of a shared human journey that starts with the genetic evidence that we are all related - descended from a common African ancestor who lived only 60,000 years ago.  My Greek heritage has always grounded me as coming from an ancient people, the cradle of democracy, thousands of years old. 

Turns out I go back much further.

There is an incredible genetic and geographic research project being conducted by National Geographic called the Genographic Project. The results of this study give us personal information about where we came from and how we got to where we are today, and will map humanity's genetic journey and how we've come to populate this world.

My husband signed us a up a couple of months ago to participate in the project.  This study aims to collect at least 100,000 DNA samples from people all over the world. The project will shed new light on our genetic and migratory history, and the connections and differences that make up the human species. 

Since my husband is always finding interesting, sometimes obscure "projects" for us to do, my first reaction was that I didn't want to share my DNA, voluntarily, with anyone.  Especially not during the atmosphere of the current U.S. regime.  Convincing as always, and not wanting to disappoint my spouse, there I was swabbing my cheek two mornings in a row and sending my DNA off into the world!  It's not cheap, it costs $100.00 for the kit, covers your personal testing, results and helps fund the larger effort.  It was money well invested.  Check it out, the research, information and latest news on the website continues to grow richer and deeper as the study progresses.

I have only begun to dig into my personal results, and I won't bore you with my journey that started over 150,000 years ago.  I knew I had married a younger man, but my husband's DNA is at least 71,000 years younger than mine.

Will this evidence, that we are one extended family, sharing this earth, result in a more peaceful, tolerant world - one can only hope.

 

AN-tee-co-AG-you-lent

This not a Mensa riddle, but it could be.  Any thoughts?

A family, for the most part live within a 10 mile radius of each other.  One person has spent almost two-thirds of their life living a great physical distance away from them.  Some see it as distance, others as absence. 

Is it distance or absence?

Is blood thicker than water?

Can humans be anti-coagulents?

Technology for all

I love my digital camera, I take it everywhere, I have thousands of images on my computer.  I don't print many photos, I kind of miss that.  But having them in digital format makes it so much easier to share doesn't it?  Well... not with everyone!  The ease that I find in sending digital images to my parents, usually causes more anxiety on their end then the photos are worth. First they get the email, then they see the attachment, then my dad announces while pointing towards the computer, "there's something in there" or "THEY sent something again".

The new photo service from Walgreens is pretty amazing, at least my dad and I think so.  It makes us both happy.  You upload your files, you select the store location you want them printed (almost anywhere in the USA) and in one-hour they are ready to be picked up!  I tried it out, and ordered photos from the comfort of my home in Portland, OR and my parents in Hammond, IN picked them up one hour later at their neighborhood Walgreens. 

We are big Walgreens fans in my family, they just gave us another reason - technology we can all love!