finally finding peace

Peace may have found me or maybe I found it. Finding refuge in lit candles, a lulling fire, staying home. Respite in not knowing what God is but not wanting to give it up. Hope in the future ahead. Comfort in putting my head down and moving toward my desires. A schedule. A plan. A glass of wine in a solo happy hour event inside my chateau. The blazing rows of blueberry plants. The autumn leaf filled air. The familiarity of the season, the patience it encourages and the nostalgia it stirs up. I welcome it. I praise it.

my love affair with the end of the world

Astoria, Oregon is hands down one of my most favorite places on earth. There is something about this funky little town that got under my skin years ago, and like a long love- I've never been able to rid it. In fact the romance may have intensified. If Astoria were a smell it would be a combination of earthy patchouli and cigars with a hint of victorian vanilla. Once that sweet blend of gritty masculinity and lacy femme- enter your nostrils forever it stays.

The town of Astoria abounds with delicious food. Seafood is abundantly available being at the end of the world- as the mouth of the Columbia runs head-on into the foreboding Pacific. My favorite food haunt of all the world is the Columbian Cafe. In true Astoria form it is anything but all done up. It refuses to dress up- and keeps its business true to delivering the best food I've ever consumed- rather than beautifying itself. I have managed to take my grips off my beloved hole in the wall and have ventured out to other food establishments- and have been blown away. Clementes is a new favorite on the CG list. The fish they serve is of top notch quality and is unbelievably fresh (aka the owners family is the fisherman!). I love their corner spot with floor to ceiling windows- that let patrons take in the comings and goings and the loveliness of the Liberty Theatre across the street.

The community is like none other. There's an unspoken code here- "get involved or leave". Its a community with a past of hard working people and that sentiment has bled over into the current state of mind. The arts both music and fine- are supported by the inhabitants better than anywhere I've encountered.

Living at the end of the world has benefits- amazing food, an arts culture off the hitches and a community that is fiercely supportive. Pretty dang worth it I gather.

independent spirit

As the upcoming red, white and blue holiday is nearing-I can't help but get filled with nostalgia and pride. I enjoy all of the holidays- but the Fourth of July is especially sacred to me. My family has been gathering in the same place for almost a hundred years to commemorate not only the birth of our country but also the existence of the patriarchal side of my family. We were blessed with having a woman in our family that possessed an abnormal wealth of fortitude. My great-great grandmother decided over a hundred years ago to homestead on the bank of a small inlet on the Puget Sound. As time passed on, so did the property- being placed in the hands of each subsequent generation. I grew up spending a tremendous amount of time lapping up the paradise of Vaughn Bay-I have realized that it is such a piece of me-this land is in my bones. The smells and the feeling that envelopes me when I am there is like no other. I get sad every time I have to leave and get back to the persistence of life that extends past the retreat of the Key Peninsula.

Our country is not perfect- just as people are good but not without a few blemishes, you can not be alive without making a few mistakes- it is a country that I am fiercely proud to be a citizen of. Our United States was created on firm principles no other country has dared declare or demand-that being free is a right every human is entitled to. In its pursuit for stretching its borders and influence the government encouraged its citizens to head west. The efforts of these brave people were rewarded by the gift of property. Another brilliant move by the country of stars and stripes-instantaneously its people were overwhelmed with loyalty, a sense of pride for not only its generous country but also for a land- that was now theirs. It is a land of the proud and of the free. I know this all so well- I bubble over with immense happiness of the land that my family has been blessed with. If it were not for the vision of a young and determined country and the brilliance and grit of a smart woman- we would be Vaughnless. This dirt is in me-its mine-and this country is mine- and its yours.

hail to the chief

My Pops was never particularly known for his culinary attributes- his domain is on the other end of the band-saw or sander. All the while he has always attempted to keep a few main-stay and go-to recipes in his tool belt for the now and again get together.

Being that his prowess is not in the kitchen- there have been comical events transpired with him at the helm of that particular mast. One of these particular mishaps is of constant reminiscing with me and the rest of my brood of sibs. I was around 10 years old at this time- I'm the oldest so that means there were four more youngsters running around cascading down in age from me- and my Dad was trying to play the part of Mr. Mom- while our Mom was getting her Masters Degree. That meant a lot of evenings where he tried his wiles at the range-the oven range that is. The most memorable dish that was bore out of these evenings was- "porcupine meatballs"-which are meatballs made with rice as part of the filling. The recipe did not mention that the rice needed to be cooked first-and being a novice cook- he didn't think to cook the rice first. I can still see all of us five kids and our Dad gathered around the oak table and chairs that he made for our dining room crunching through those hunks of ground meat- baring our sheepish eyes to meet our Dad's to scan if he was having the same crunchy experience. At that time he did not admit defeat- and we all had to continue eating our meal. Shortly thereafter it got put into the rounder file of funny stories. We often revisit it for ol' times sake and a darn good laugh.

I tip my hat to my Dad- the Dad who despite not enjoying cooking amidst a very busy life- valued our time as a family that he gave up his own comforts and potential ridicule so we could all gather around the dinner table and grow; grow into the thing he loves most-

his family.

i do declare!

I recently encountered what I do declare as to be the best food moment of my life. This past Memorial Day Weekend while spending time at what I refer to as Paradise- but to others known as Vaughn Bay (my great-great-grandmother had the fortitude to homestead on the water and pass down her property to generations following her- brilliant woman I tell you!!)--I was blessed with the most delicious moment. My friend and his youngsters bounded down to the rocky beach and combed its soil for its crop of shelled delicacies. They successfully bounded up to the grassy bank that extends a thumb of a finger into the water and holds a fire pit that encourages the view as well as conversation. The oysters (Pacific Blues) were distributed evenly amongst the hot coals glowing in the masonry and earthen round. My friend attended to the oysters and maintained their progression- as the oysters succumbed to the heat their shells popped open. Then they were swooped up by a leather adorned hand and then cracked further- and the beautiful white meat was exposed and extracted from the shell and plopped on the plate of anxious comrades around the circle. They were then doused with the taste of choice- simply lemon juice and kosher salt or cocktail sauce. Bottles of champagne were opened and were sipped while noshing on the clean and salty loveliness of the bounty of the bay. The sun was just beginning to crest behind the Olympic Mountains- and was extending its rays to our bank. We all lingered in the beauty of the moment- exquisite food, delightful company, and the sun shining. Everything was right- and it will stand in my memory for all time.

a fish tale

There once was a little salmon making its way up the Columbia River minding its own business. This salmon being of the savvy variety was completely aware of its worth and value, and knew that its life was of a greater calling. This salmon being the contemplative type and understanding that the world existed beyond his watery borders, was engrossed in thought as he was motoring on through the currents of the confluence. Then just as he was considering his greater calling, he felt a tug on his lower lip. Damn! -It was indeed the snag he had been anticipating-but he honestly was feeling it was coming a little sooner than he was hoping. Again being a fish with an uncanny sense of himself and his purpose- resigned himself to the hook and resisted only a little- just for special effect. Then he allowed himself to be reeled in. Doing what good looking fish do- he flounced his shiny body all around the bottom of the boat- he knew he was showing off a bit- but what the heck he thought- its one last go, the last of his eminent fading glory. So he through his spine back and gave it a couple more bursts of flailing energy-drew two more breaths and thanked the universe for his great life and commenced his life.

The salmon was picked up by the beautiful young woman that had so craftily baited her line, and had cast it in the shining waters of the river. The young lady possessing the ability to keep up with the boys in the outdoor type of activities all the while maintaining her femininity firmly took hold of the fish and gut it just as a good patron of the river does- and returned the salmon's insides to the waters that bore him. She then respectfully placed her catch on the ice inside the cooler that she had prepared -being of confident mind, she knew she would be successful that day in bringing home a catch. She started back toward the shore with satisfaction. The young lady having countenance that resounds her name sake- decided to share her bounty. So upon returning to the river bank- she called up her cousin and they planned to have dinner the following evening sharing the blessing of the catch of the day. The following evening they gathered round a square table, in a cottage on a hill lined with blueberries- with the beauty of the earth shimmering around them, and the warmth of a hand crafted meal in front of them, and the love of friends and family encircling the feast. Here the salmon's calling was met- his existence brought four people together- three of them cousins, to dine and engage in a way they had not yet experienced. A magical moment transpired.

A fish is not a fish alone- a meal not just a meal. Beauty happens every day by what appears to be a small encounter.

reckoning ourselves

How do we get to a place where we are truly happy with ourselves physically? One step further into this actually begs the question how do we become truly happy.. because I believe that ones physicality has huge impact on how one conducts and carries themselves. I have visited this a couple of times in my writings of exploratory topics-but its one that is as persistent as our quest for food. Its the one that stares directly into the eyes of my obsession with food-and I know that I am not alone in this.

Is this the time to expose my demons- do they have any value to others? I'm not sure- but I'm going to provide an exorcism in any event- you be the judge of its worth. Oh yep-I was another one of those dime a dozen anorexic girls. You've heard the story a million times....I never starved myself entirely- but I had the most rigid of diets- consisting mostly of coffee, apples and bagels. I exercised hard to counteract that whopping 20 grams of fat I'd intake in a day, leaving my body with only the basics of subsistence. My sister God bless her- would watch me as I literally broke down into crying fits at the agony of being presented with a meal out of my "controlled diet" regime. It was sheer torture-the thought of breaking into that controlled situation I had created would take me to the floor writhing. In those times the fear was so strong on my face-I would imagine watching it unfold would be like watching a person that is certifiably schizophrenic start to carry on a conversation with one of their personalities. In those moments the other person watching feels like they are observing a train wreck that they have no idea how to switch the rails on. For some people these issues are brought to surface by the influence of some other event or issue. For me it was just that I really liked how I looked when I was that thin- there were no other issues, aside from the usual American bout of obesity somewhere in your lineage freaking you out that you may become that someday. Once I got into that very extreme reality I had made completely on my own-I did not want to break it. The mere thought of it had me so uncanny-I really should have been in a mental facility. The control of it is mind altering. Some of us are more prone to obsessive and compulsive behavior then others- its in my makeup. Just like some people have other mental hang-ups.

So the issue here is how as adults when we know better-how do we reckon with ourselves? Now one huge caveat- I do not hold the answers not even close, nor am I really probably the best person to even speak to the issue- because I wrestle with this everyday. But that's exactly the point. Food issues are body issues. If you have these hangups they are with you FOREVER. There is no such thing as careless eating. Every item you consume is filed in a catalogue ready

for you to analyze and scrutinize later- and maybe even hold against yourself. So the key I believe is getting to a point where we can see food as nourishment, fuel, and something to

enjoy with revelry. Just like gun handlers have the deepest respect for their arms, we must also respect food in the same way. It is gorgeous, it is to be enjoyed, and it can not be denied what the scary reality is on the other side of the barrel. Its the avoidance of its power that causes the greatest harm. Get familiar with food- love it. Love yourself. Take care of you-don't deny yourself anything. When we see food as the enemy- we think we have to limit our exposure to it- which in turn only creates a hatred for the thing that in essence is supposed to provide nourishment at the most basic of levels. And then there starts the pendulum of ups and downs-love, hate, love, hate. When this respect is in tact- the ups and downs start to ebb away. Your mind starts to realize that nothing is off limits-and therefore the need to over compensate when posed with something normally considered taboo becomes less.

Some people I do believe never have had to deal with this constant monitoring. That's simply just not my reality. Don't worry those of you that think those people are lucky-they have their issues-and they're just as disgusting as yours-and these people are looking at you thinking

you've got it all together- and its my sincerest wish that I hope you do.