Halloween!

"Halloween is our chance to slip out of the stereotypes assigned to us, and find truth and beauty in caricature."
--Garrison Keillor

Halloween is not the loaded holiday that Christmas or Thanksgiving can be. There is little to worry about when this holiday rolls around. At best, it's a time to dress up, find a party and live it up, and at worst, it can slip by without inducing guilt (but a few pounds are highly likely with all the candy out).
G and I decided to host a Halloween open house yesterday. It was a good incentive to get the apartment in ship shape after weeks of stalled near completion. We cleaned and organized on Saturday, and spent Sunday morning buying pumpkins, candy and decorations. Guests were scheduled to arrive around 2:00, and at 1:45 I was worried I wouldn't have everything ready. Then G noticed that his computer said 12:45...and we remembered the "fall back" time change. An hour reprieve!
Friends brought pumpkins to carve and drank beer and cider. Although evil twin #1 couldn't make it, we were slightly relieved to put our fear of her knife weilding aside, and the cats were able to slink around, with Soul showing off his "black cat" costume.
By the end of the evening, we'd all shared stories, therapeutically carved jack o'lanterns, and consumed way too many simple starches.
And this morning, in classic candy hangover mode, Soul was passed out on the sofa with no energy to play or try to run out the door as G and I made our way to work.

Review of New Food: The Parsnip

The change in season (any season) inspires me to cook. This summer I made several strawberry cakes, using the cheap and abundant flats of strawberries from Trader Joe's. As the weather cools, I feel more comfortable standing over a stove or heating up the whole kitchen by having the oven at 400. Sometimes my zeal and optimism nearly outweigh my physical capabilities. I committed myself to making two savory pies for Rosh Hashanah last week, one involving cutting up a whole chicken (despite having watched my mom do this many times, I'm no expert and always wish for a sharper knife) AND phyllo dough. I had a vague recollection of using phyllo dough in college, but like many things from college, the specifics must have slipped away. Phyllo dough requires constant attention-- it must be frozen, then just thawed, then kept moist with a wet towel-- but not too wet. No matter what, the dough seems to flake, rip and tear and who can count out seven layers of micro thin dough, followed by five, followed by three? As the clock was ticking down to the arrival of guests, I just started throwing the dough over the chicken. In the end it was fine.
G and I enjoy cooking together-- a testament to patience and the adventure involved. Last fall and winter we made several trips to Haymarket for fresh, cheap produce, returning with a need to figure out what exactly to do with the pound of jalepenos we just bought (only 50 cents). This year we have been meeting after work on days the farmer's market is set up outside his office. We usually return with lots of potatoes, leafy greens, carrots, peppers and eggplants (so many eggplants-- there's only so much you can do with them!). I returned recently with several parsnips. This is not a vegetable I remember from my childhood-- it looks like the carrot's sickly, anemic cousin. But root vegetables are in, and I think many vegetables that had previously fallen out of fashion are making a comeback (cauliflower and the dreaded gaucho/cullottes pants must be in cahoots!). I decided to roast them along with the carrots and some yams. I covered them with a little water, some butter, cinnamon and herbs de provence and the kitchen began to smell like fall. I asked G, who'd also never tried a parsnip before, what he thought. His response? "Interesting." Probably the same response your mom would get when she asked how your afternoon with your weird cousin was.

Fresh Start

I've always lived in an Academic Year calendar, and with my birthday capping summer and heralding in this "new year" I always find Fall a good time for resolutions. Since retiring from my mentoring gig a year and a half ago, I've been waiting for a new volunteer opportunity. Volunteering my time is crucial for me, but I prefer active endeavors (face to face time) over envelope stuffing and making phone calls. I have early memories of cavassing neighborhoods with my mom in support of political candidates and a requirement in elementary school was to do an act of service each week and have it signed off. One doesn't have the luxuries, in fifth grade, of searching out too many service opportunities, but I do remember bringing the newspaper from the bottom of my elderly neighbor's driveway to his doorstep. At the very least it got me thinking of ways to repay others for all the benefits I received. By the time I was in high school, a criteria for graduation was 200 hours of creative and active service. I tutored elementary children after school and helped set up art shows. After I graduated college in Boston, I felt like I needed to be part of a community, and so started mentoring a school age boy once a week and did that for two years. The rewards of volunteering are non-monetary, but you feel like you are making a small difference in world where natural disaster, war and disease are right outside the door.
When Rashmi asked me two weeks ago if I would like to co-lead a Girl Scout troop with her, I hesitated. I knew there would be a long-term commitment and that I'd have to be "on" as well as give up personal time. But the hesitation was short lived.
Although I was a "Bluebird" and not a Brownie or Girlscout, I distinctly remember the after school meetings. All or most of the girls in my class were in my troop; we proudly wore our Bluebird uniforms (distinguishing us from our standard uniforms that girls in other grades wore those days). We each had small enamal bluebird pins. We met in the basement of a classmate's house and although the usual activities were probably crafts, I do remember a trip to the Coca Cola factory and the Wonder Bread factory (so 1950's, and yet this was probably about 1985).
To this day I love clubs; I have my book club, my music/cd club, a (sometimes) Spanish club...all group centered, stemming from my early immersion in groups, I'm sure. Why not give a few hours a month to give some girls the same chance I had?