So. It is four days since the record-breaking 12-inch-plus snowfall. There are still pockets, especially carcasses of melting snowmen and snowwomen on the yards all over the Metroplex.
During the snow days, I fixed one of my favorite, easy-peasy comfort foods. It occurs to me some of you don't know about it.
Huevos Rancheros
For each person, take two tortillas. To me, that automatically means corn, but I realize there are people who even make enchiladas with flour tortillas.(shudder)
Same instructions apply.
Put a tablespoon or so of oil in a frying pan and heat to frying temperature. Put in a tortilla, corn or flour, and heat until it puffs a little. Flip. Toast until sligntly crispy. Drain on a paper towel. Do another. Overlap the tortillas.
Coat with your favorite pecante. Top with cheese. Yeah, white cheese is more authentic, but I usually use shredded cheddar. Stick in the microwave for a minute to melt while you add a little more oil and fry two eggs. Pull out plate with tortillas, pecante and melted cheese, and top with hot fried eggs (I like the yolks thick and liquid, and I blot the grease on these, too.) Top with a light sprinkling of more cheese, maybe a dash of cumin, And maybe a dollop more of picante.
If you have fresh cilantro, I usually don't, they are even better.
If you are feeding a family, stick finished plates in oven set on warm until all are done. Eat.
Oh, you can heat up a can or two of pinto beans and add on the side. The egg dish is enough to leave me full and happy for about 3-4 hours.
Yes, this is breakfast, but can be eaten for lunch or supper.
See? Easy-peasy. Fresh flour tortillas should puff just like fresh corn. Corn are more delicious, in my world, and a lot less calories. More fiber.
Do as you wish. It's fast, easy, and delicious.
Took very little time from watching the snow fall.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Exhibiting Privacy in Public
I have two friends who frequently send me chain e-mails--pictures, or funny statements, or incredibly sentimental stuff with the caveat to send it on. Today I got one with pictures I would have sent except for the instructions at the bottom.
So I sighed and deleted.
I get chainmails asking me to sign petitions--and occasionally one is a cause I really support. That means I write individually and send snail. I have three stores I like well enough to give my e address to. I didn't know that meant they were going to send me weekly sales notices, naive on my part. I can cancel them, but I really like these stores, so I usually glance at what's offered before I delete. Sooner or later, they may prompt me to buy something.
If I don't buy stuff from unsolicited phone calls, why would I follow the instructions of some anonymous stranger who started something on the Internet?
When I was a news reporter 30 years ago--before instant everything, no time to check the facts before putting it out there, I was sometimes given stories to write where I had to ask very intrusive questions of people probably during their personal crisis. We didn't hound much in those days, and as I asked the questions, often I was thinking,"Please tell me to mind my own business." I've often wondered if my personal reticence made a difference, or if it is just the nature of crises, but I can't remember anyone ever refusing to answer fully with good quotes which I wrote up faithfully. At least I was accurate.
When I worked for Child Protective Services again I was intruding on private lives, this time with official clout to effect change. The parents and I talked about what these changes needed to be. Given an opportunity for input, they sometimes suggested efforts I wouldn't have thought of. I came monthly, even weekly at times to see what was going on in the home. I had multiple written and verbal contacts with therapists, parenting teachers, homemakers (a surprising number knew nothing about cooking, which can drastically affect the budget), even landlords. Parole officers.
Here's the thing. People can be as eccentric and individualistic as they wish until evidence is found that because of some part of that different lifestyle, their children are at risk. Believe me, a lot of uncorrected neglect goes on, and emotional abuse, because it isn't illegal. Or maybe it is just impossible to prove in court. So folks who dealt with me had a history and/or had done something so far over the line I was assigned. I began by telling them they were going to be held to community standards. Most of them were pretty aware of what those were, the standards just seemed too hard or too much trouble. We sat down together and agreed what had to change. I wrote it up, along with what I had to do to help them, and we all signed it.
Here's the thing. I was nosy about what went on that might be dangerous to the children. I didn't interfere with their privacy in other areas. If cleanliness wasn't an issue, I never saw most of the house. If drugs were an issue, they were getting tested regularly anyway. I tried to intrude on their privacy to the extent it was necessary. Sometimes, that was pretty nearly everything. Often, it wasn't.
It surprises me with my own beliefs and behavior, that I have worked at these two jobs. I value privacy, prize it, even. I cannot think of a single person in my current life who knows exactly what I am doing or thinking, including my family. And I try to return the favor. I see a lot of them, but there is a lot I don't know and don't need to, and vice versa. I think this mutual respect and privacy makes for a good mix.
To invoke privacy for myself and others, I think involves self-respect and respect for others. If somebody frustrates me, that may just be my problem. Maybe I am the one having a bad day.
Oh yeah. I can lose it. But someone a long time agotold me,"If you are righteously angry, never say something you have to apologize for later."
It's good advice. When I ignore it and have to apologize later, I remember it and think, "well there's my refresher lesson."
And there are the two or three I can tell most anything to. ANYTHING. So again, in moments of crisis, I don't have to blab my business to perfect strangers. Another good use for friendship.
So I sighed and deleted.
I get chainmails asking me to sign petitions--and occasionally one is a cause I really support. That means I write individually and send snail. I have three stores I like well enough to give my e address to. I didn't know that meant they were going to send me weekly sales notices, naive on my part. I can cancel them, but I really like these stores, so I usually glance at what's offered before I delete. Sooner or later, they may prompt me to buy something.
If I don't buy stuff from unsolicited phone calls, why would I follow the instructions of some anonymous stranger who started something on the Internet?
When I was a news reporter 30 years ago--before instant everything, no time to check the facts before putting it out there, I was sometimes given stories to write where I had to ask very intrusive questions of people probably during their personal crisis. We didn't hound much in those days, and as I asked the questions, often I was thinking,"Please tell me to mind my own business." I've often wondered if my personal reticence made a difference, or if it is just the nature of crises, but I can't remember anyone ever refusing to answer fully with good quotes which I wrote up faithfully. At least I was accurate.
When I worked for Child Protective Services again I was intruding on private lives, this time with official clout to effect change. The parents and I talked about what these changes needed to be. Given an opportunity for input, they sometimes suggested efforts I wouldn't have thought of. I came monthly, even weekly at times to see what was going on in the home. I had multiple written and verbal contacts with therapists, parenting teachers, homemakers (a surprising number knew nothing about cooking, which can drastically affect the budget), even landlords. Parole officers.
Here's the thing. People can be as eccentric and individualistic as they wish until evidence is found that because of some part of that different lifestyle, their children are at risk. Believe me, a lot of uncorrected neglect goes on, and emotional abuse, because it isn't illegal. Or maybe it is just impossible to prove in court. So folks who dealt with me had a history and/or had done something so far over the line I was assigned. I began by telling them they were going to be held to community standards. Most of them were pretty aware of what those were, the standards just seemed too hard or too much trouble. We sat down together and agreed what had to change. I wrote it up, along with what I had to do to help them, and we all signed it.
Here's the thing. I was nosy about what went on that might be dangerous to the children. I didn't interfere with their privacy in other areas. If cleanliness wasn't an issue, I never saw most of the house. If drugs were an issue, they were getting tested regularly anyway. I tried to intrude on their privacy to the extent it was necessary. Sometimes, that was pretty nearly everything. Often, it wasn't.
It surprises me with my own beliefs and behavior, that I have worked at these two jobs. I value privacy, prize it, even. I cannot think of a single person in my current life who knows exactly what I am doing or thinking, including my family. And I try to return the favor. I see a lot of them, but there is a lot I don't know and don't need to, and vice versa. I think this mutual respect and privacy makes for a good mix.
To invoke privacy for myself and others, I think involves self-respect and respect for others. If somebody frustrates me, that may just be my problem. Maybe I am the one having a bad day.
Oh yeah. I can lose it. But someone a long time agotold me,"If you are righteously angry, never say something you have to apologize for later."
It's good advice. When I ignore it and have to apologize later, I remember it and think, "well there's my refresher lesson."
And there are the two or three I can tell most anything to. ANYTHING. So again, in moments of crisis, I don't have to blab my business to perfect strangers. Another good use for friendship.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Dallas-Fort Worth has historic Snowfall
It's official.
An historic snowfall. Dallas-Fort Worth recorded 12.5 inches. Or more. Haslet, a small North Texas town, officially recorded 14.2 inches. The single snowfall makes this the third snowiest winter in recorded history. Hundreds of thousands have power outages.
ALL the schools are closed. Most probably had Valentine parties planned today. Power outages mean closed businesses, too. Just heard a man with no power at home bemoaning his search for miles to someplace with power and hot coffee. He's driving on black ice to find it. Your heart hurts for him, doesn't it?
Along about next August, this will be a fine day to remember.
NBA convention in Dallas this weekend. Good luck with that.
An historic snowfall. Dallas-Fort Worth recorded 12.5 inches. Or more. Haslet, a small North Texas town, officially recorded 14.2 inches. The single snowfall makes this the third snowiest winter in recorded history. Hundreds of thousands have power outages.
ALL the schools are closed. Most probably had Valentine parties planned today. Power outages mean closed businesses, too. Just heard a man with no power at home bemoaning his search for miles to someplace with power and hot coffee. He's driving on black ice to find it. Your heart hurts for him, doesn't it?
Along about next August, this will be a fine day to remember.
NBA convention in Dallas this weekend. Good luck with that.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The Wonder of a Snowy Day
All day I have been sitting near my computer, mostly staring out the window.
A winter storm with maybe 1-3 inches of snow was predicted, snow to start around 3 a.m. today. I awoke about 3:45 a.m., and in curiosity glanced outside. Nothing. Cold and sere, No snow. I awoke three hours later to find at least 2 inches of snow and a steady fall. I've been watching every since. I even left in mid-morning to go to the store--can't run out of diet Dr. Pepper--and played in the snow a little. Wiped about 4 inches off my car to drive. I was gone about half an hour, and when I returned, my footsteps were filled with nearly another inch of wet snow. The guy who picks up our trash on his golf cart was grounded in too much snow. He was stuck. In at least 25 years, we haven't had such snow. He eventually dug out. His muddy spot where the vehicle had foundered is totally level with the rest of the pristine snow as of now.
The snow continues to fall. And fall. I never in my memory remember seeing snow fall, vigorously and energetically, all day. With more to come. Call me easily enchanted, but it is exciting, and beautiful. My amazement and fascination is a reality check to parts of the country whose people are used to snow, but not the current 70-plus inches. They are having to endure long-time
In mid-North Texas, the snow has been falling all day with almost no wind, temperatures around 30-33 degrees. So there is melting and slush. Tomorrow morning, temps are predicted to be in the mid-20s, and lethal. We will have ice on the roads, and little equipment to alleviate it. I will not go out at all tomorrow before noon. I can drive on ice. I am less willing as I age to walk on it without salt, kitty litter, or some way of clearing the walks. But today I loved listening to the sqee-runch, sque-runch of walking in it. Of breathing the clean snow-air--nothing like it.
I've thrown out birdseed under the trees where the snow may not cover it, or the birds will find it as the snow melts. Predictions were for a high of 50 tomorrow earlier in the week, but with all the snow, highs in the 30s are predicted. More cold, but no moisture, on Sunday.
Okay, factual. I have never seen a White Christmas, which I would have if I had stayed for Christmas this year, but I went to Austin. It was the first white Christmas since 1927 in the North Texas Metroplex. When we got back, there was still enough snow for the grandkids to play in.
I keep looking out the window. The snow keeps falling. I still wonder. And exult.
Bless you all, I drove in this stuff for years. Now I don't have to. As long as it is not more than a day, I can stand the isolation. And blessed North Texas Metroplex, it won't be much more than that.
See why people move here?
Summer is coming. It will be hot. And we have had so much rain, gardeners don't know if they will get their onions, potatoes and spinach out in time.
Future crises. Today, I have watched the snow fall all day on a beautifully white landscape. It has been beautiful. Amazing.
Memorable. How old do we get before memorable is not important? I don't think I want to get that old.
It is still snowing.
A winter storm with maybe 1-3 inches of snow was predicted, snow to start around 3 a.m. today. I awoke about 3:45 a.m., and in curiosity glanced outside. Nothing. Cold and sere, No snow. I awoke three hours later to find at least 2 inches of snow and a steady fall. I've been watching every since. I even left in mid-morning to go to the store--can't run out of diet Dr. Pepper--and played in the snow a little. Wiped about 4 inches off my car to drive. I was gone about half an hour, and when I returned, my footsteps were filled with nearly another inch of wet snow. The guy who picks up our trash on his golf cart was grounded in too much snow. He was stuck. In at least 25 years, we haven't had such snow. He eventually dug out. His muddy spot where the vehicle had foundered is totally level with the rest of the pristine snow as of now.
The snow continues to fall. And fall. I never in my memory remember seeing snow fall, vigorously and energetically, all day. With more to come. Call me easily enchanted, but it is exciting, and beautiful. My amazement and fascination is a reality check to parts of the country whose people are used to snow, but not the current 70-plus inches. They are having to endure long-time
In mid-North Texas, the snow has been falling all day with almost no wind, temperatures around 30-33 degrees. So there is melting and slush. Tomorrow morning, temps are predicted to be in the mid-20s, and lethal. We will have ice on the roads, and little equipment to alleviate it. I will not go out at all tomorrow before noon. I can drive on ice. I am less willing as I age to walk on it without salt, kitty litter, or some way of clearing the walks. But today I loved listening to the sqee-runch, sque-runch of walking in it. Of breathing the clean snow-air--nothing like it.
I've thrown out birdseed under the trees where the snow may not cover it, or the birds will find it as the snow melts. Predictions were for a high of 50 tomorrow earlier in the week, but with all the snow, highs in the 30s are predicted. More cold, but no moisture, on Sunday.
Okay, factual. I have never seen a White Christmas, which I would have if I had stayed for Christmas this year, but I went to Austin. It was the first white Christmas since 1927 in the North Texas Metroplex. When we got back, there was still enough snow for the grandkids to play in.
I keep looking out the window. The snow keeps falling. I still wonder. And exult.
Bless you all, I drove in this stuff for years. Now I don't have to. As long as it is not more than a day, I can stand the isolation. And blessed North Texas Metroplex, it won't be much more than that.
See why people move here?
Summer is coming. It will be hot. And we have had so much rain, gardeners don't know if they will get their onions, potatoes and spinach out in time.
Future crises. Today, I have watched the snow fall all day on a beautifully white landscape. It has been beautiful. Amazing.
Memorable. How old do we get before memorable is not important? I don't think I want to get that old.
It is still snowing.
Friday, February 5, 2010
I've been thinking a lot lately about bases. Where do you go for the camaraderie and comfort of a home base? Most of us have several. Bases are a way of identifying ourselves. They are also a way of belonging to a "we", not just an "I". And humans mostly need that, at least a little bit.
This week my son and I attended the funeral of his great-aunt, a dear, sweet woman who slipped quietly away at 94. It was a happy funeral, a celebration. It's a large family. Several couldn't get there, and still, about 25 or 30 were together for lunch after. It was a time to touch base, to remember that, no matter how scattered, all these folks have others they are related to. It is a pleasant reminder, particularly since this is a warm, caring family.
So. A base.
When you do work you like and/or believe in, that is another base. It becomes stronger if you manage to work there several years, an increasingly difficult feat. I am definitely defined by all three of the professional careers I have had. I still keep up with people from all three. For two of the professions, in particular, I don't know any other people I have so much in common with. It's not just memories we share. It is ideas and ways of examining the world around us. They are real bases. I get so hungry to talk to people with keen curiosity, wide-ranging interests, depth of knowledge.
The third is churches. I've finally found a liberal Christian church that encourages questioning, harmony, and diversity. I'm loving it. The kids are great. They have attentive, caring parents. I suspect the parents enjoy getting together to talk and having others of us in the church take over for an hour or two. The older people are wise and open. I realized recently that yes, this is truly a major base. A family in our church has started bringing an adolescent boy they know with them to just everything for his age level. He has a rough home life. As he spends weeks and months coming, participating, and yes, lots of eating, I am watching him slowly smooth out a bit. His home is not a base, but the church is becoming one. I see it happening. I think this is a good thing. He belongs somewhere.
Schools and colleges can be bases for many. I have two degrees from two universities. I have never attended a reunion at either school. I keep up with some of the friends I made, but not the schools. I do read my alumni magazines. But a home base? Not so much. Both of the schools are fairly name brand, so it's not the prestige factor. I'm proud of the degrees. I just don't need to go back there. (I always meant to frame the diplomas, but I never got around to it.)
And of course, the neighborhood bar. I have several friends who have spent every Friday or Saturday night at the same bar for years. They all know each other. They dance. They laugh. They celebrate each others' birthdays. They bring food over when a family member dies.
THAT is a base.
Maybe I am old-fashioned, because all of these require actual physical contact. I am not sure that a chat room can be a base. I love blogging and reading others, but for me it is a fun social activity, not a base.
Still, one of my personal bases is writing, and this blog gives me a chance to touch that. For that, I am thankful.
This week my son and I attended the funeral of his great-aunt, a dear, sweet woman who slipped quietly away at 94. It was a happy funeral, a celebration. It's a large family. Several couldn't get there, and still, about 25 or 30 were together for lunch after. It was a time to touch base, to remember that, no matter how scattered, all these folks have others they are related to. It is a pleasant reminder, particularly since this is a warm, caring family.
So. A base.
When you do work you like and/or believe in, that is another base. It becomes stronger if you manage to work there several years, an increasingly difficult feat. I am definitely defined by all three of the professional careers I have had. I still keep up with people from all three. For two of the professions, in particular, I don't know any other people I have so much in common with. It's not just memories we share. It is ideas and ways of examining the world around us. They are real bases. I get so hungry to talk to people with keen curiosity, wide-ranging interests, depth of knowledge.
The third is churches. I've finally found a liberal Christian church that encourages questioning, harmony, and diversity. I'm loving it. The kids are great. They have attentive, caring parents. I suspect the parents enjoy getting together to talk and having others of us in the church take over for an hour or two. The older people are wise and open. I realized recently that yes, this is truly a major base. A family in our church has started bringing an adolescent boy they know with them to just everything for his age level. He has a rough home life. As he spends weeks and months coming, participating, and yes, lots of eating, I am watching him slowly smooth out a bit. His home is not a base, but the church is becoming one. I see it happening. I think this is a good thing. He belongs somewhere.
Schools and colleges can be bases for many. I have two degrees from two universities. I have never attended a reunion at either school. I keep up with some of the friends I made, but not the schools. I do read my alumni magazines. But a home base? Not so much. Both of the schools are fairly name brand, so it's not the prestige factor. I'm proud of the degrees. I just don't need to go back there. (I always meant to frame the diplomas, but I never got around to it.)
And of course, the neighborhood bar. I have several friends who have spent every Friday or Saturday night at the same bar for years. They all know each other. They dance. They laugh. They celebrate each others' birthdays. They bring food over when a family member dies.
THAT is a base.
Maybe I am old-fashioned, because all of these require actual physical contact. I am not sure that a chat room can be a base. I love blogging and reading others, but for me it is a fun social activity, not a base.
Still, one of my personal bases is writing, and this blog gives me a chance to touch that. For that, I am thankful.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
History Sometimes Rings True
One of my joys currently is spending time with the kids in my church. More specifically, I sometimes teach Bible stories to the kids aged 3-8. A lot of the 7 and 8 year olds are in second grade, as is one of my granddaughters.
Recently, they had a holiday for Martin Luther King Day. Now, this is a small community, primarily Anglo, and I had no idea what the schools taught about this holiday. The kids are all in different classes, so it is not as if they all heard the same teacher. But over the last couple of weeks, they have all talked to me about something they thought was important.
"There used to be a time," they have told me with eyes wide, "when people with brown skins and white skins didn't even go to school together." Another chimed in. "They didn't even drink at the same water fountains." Another said, "If a white person wanted their seat, they had to get up and give it to them and go sit somewhere else."
"But," one said, "Martin Luther King changed that. He brought us together. And it isn't like that anymore."
They were telling me something they learned that was very important to them. They actually valued the man for their holiday from school.
And I smiled and told them, "this was a good thing, wasn't it?" And they nodded, agreeing it was. One of them is very black, from another country. The history was as strange to her as to them.
They are in second grade. And they have learned, through public school, something I think is really important in American history. I never attended a segregated school, nor saw separate water fountains until I was 16. In this part of the country, there were segregated schools and separate water fountains. That I didn't know about it doesn't excuse it. And they will learn some of the deeper lessons of surface prejudice as they grow older.
I was in college in 1963 when King gave his "I have a dream" speech. It moved me then as it moves me still.
To these children, it was ages ago. Probably before my lifetime in their minds, which is why they told me. But it wasn't. No, King didn't end it. But he started a good thing, and I am glad school children today are being taught about why we honor him. We are not finished yet, but he started something good that continues.
Sometimes, it is very good to remember.
Recently, they had a holiday for Martin Luther King Day. Now, this is a small community, primarily Anglo, and I had no idea what the schools taught about this holiday. The kids are all in different classes, so it is not as if they all heard the same teacher. But over the last couple of weeks, they have all talked to me about something they thought was important.
"There used to be a time," they have told me with eyes wide, "when people with brown skins and white skins didn't even go to school together." Another chimed in. "They didn't even drink at the same water fountains." Another said, "If a white person wanted their seat, they had to get up and give it to them and go sit somewhere else."
"But," one said, "Martin Luther King changed that. He brought us together. And it isn't like that anymore."
They were telling me something they learned that was very important to them. They actually valued the man for their holiday from school.
And I smiled and told them, "this was a good thing, wasn't it?" And they nodded, agreeing it was. One of them is very black, from another country. The history was as strange to her as to them.
They are in second grade. And they have learned, through public school, something I think is really important in American history. I never attended a segregated school, nor saw separate water fountains until I was 16. In this part of the country, there were segregated schools and separate water fountains. That I didn't know about it doesn't excuse it. And they will learn some of the deeper lessons of surface prejudice as they grow older.
I was in college in 1963 when King gave his "I have a dream" speech. It moved me then as it moves me still.
To these children, it was ages ago. Probably before my lifetime in their minds, which is why they told me. But it wasn't. No, King didn't end it. But he started a good thing, and I am glad school children today are being taught about why we honor him. We are not finished yet, but he started something good that continues.
Sometimes, it is very good to remember.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Requiem for Robert B. Parker
Heard on the news that Robert B. Parker died today. Heard it was unexpected, that he was found sprawled over his computer. Made me smile. He was 77. The man had a lot of juice left for his age.... This man gave me hours and hours of enterainment. I shamefacedly admit my first reaction was self-centered--I had hoped for a number more books.
Told my younger son, just 30, a while ago. He liked the Spencers, but was really getting into Jessie Stone. He decided he would call his dad. As extended family, we put some dollars and a lot of time into this author.
I always heard a good party is one that ends befoe the guests have had enough. Maybe that goes for a good life, too. A ton of us weren't ready for Robert Parker to be over. I bet he wasn't either. Doesn't get much better. I'll lift a toast to that.
Told my younger son, just 30, a while ago. He liked the Spencers, but was really getting into Jessie Stone. He decided he would call his dad. As extended family, we put some dollars and a lot of time into this author.
I always heard a good party is one that ends befoe the guests have had enough. Maybe that goes for a good life, too. A ton of us weren't ready for Robert Parker to be over. I bet he wasn't either. Doesn't get much better. I'll lift a toast to that.
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