VINE CHAT

Leftovers are better than the holiday meal itself.  The flavors in the food have a chance to come together.  You can appreciate those flavors because you haven't loaded up on hors d'oeuvres.  And you can approach dessert without regret - there may be only one piece of pie left so you reluctantly share it with someone else in the house; which makes you savor every creamy bite of pumpkin or tart bite of fruit pie even more than the night before, when you had multiple sweet offerings before you.  

As long as you don't let the food sit out too long, if you have refrigerated properly - you can partake in the second feast, a rite of the season, a pre-requisite to making the food part of the holidays complete.

In my refrigerator right now I have, from yesterday:

succulent, moist turkey slices from the 27 pound bird my mother-in-law roasted with lots of pepper on the skin

braised pork loin and celery in a lemon sauce, made by my mother-in-law

spanakopita, ""

rice stuffing with roasted chestnuts (no, I don't recall an open fire - it was in the high 80s here yesterday), made by m-i-l

lemon potatoes, my m-i-l's recipe but made by me - lemon, greek oregano, tomato, olive oil, s & p

spinach souffle, made my my mom, an ina garten recipe (download it from the food network's website, it is unbelievably good)

filet mignon - I didn't overcook it!!!

marsala mushroom sauce, made by my mom - creamy, bold, earthy, the perfect match for the filet

I sent hubby to the store for freshly baked wheat bread and a big jar of mayo for the turkey sandwiches.  I didn't put any cranberry relish on the plate we brought home, because turkey sandwiches take precedence.

Now, a much as I love putting a large bite of the turkey-cranberries-stuffing combo into my mouth, a turkey sandwich is what I want to remember come January.  I want to remember that the simplest meal is just as filling as an extravagant one.  I want to long for that sandwich all year long again, I want to covet the holiday feast all year long because when I get it I am so, so happy...with the top button undone, with a glass of red wine, with my friends who flew in or drove from far away and my family I see everyday, I can say I don't want anything more.

Well, that is not entirely true.  I want enough meals to feed everyone who has to go without.  I want world peace.  I want a chance to fill the bellies and warm the hearts of people who need it.  I want to reach more people with food, and good Lord willing, maybe someday I will.   

My next book will have a recipe for our holiday staples, but more impressive would be a recipe for an end to human and animal suffering.  I think there was a book written to that effect, an old text - however, we fallible creatures misinterpret the words, fail to follow the directions.

Reform and peace start at home...that is to say, the kitchen, at least for me.

Go cook for someone you love - rather, go reheat a plate of blessings and send out some love to the rest of the world as you say grace and undo your top button...good will is sooo yummy.

Sometimes my girlfriends come home for Christmas, sometimes they don't.

Marriage and jobs have taken them away from the corner of the world we call home - southern California, but when they are here we make fabulous plans to see each other, get together, watch our kids play - and with all due self-respect, not ruminate over "glory days" - we make fabulous plans to just "be", no saccharine attemtps at small talk or filling in the blanks because we're way past that - no disparaging remarks about people who have come and gone because we're comfortable with ourselves and our lives - no playing the good mommy olympics (credit my publisher Nancy for that line) so as to impress each other with our maternal and personal evolution - we can just "be".  It's a good feeling, and I miss it when they go, but son of a bitch, I even miss it when they are here.

Why is it that when my girlfriends come to town from all over the continental United States where their husbands have jobs and family that somehow, sometimes, we don't make the most out of our time together?  Opportunities come and go, and at the end of the day, I think, am I a bad friend?  Am I apathetic about relationships in my mid (okay, beginning of my latter half) thirties?  I could make a huge rationalization here, but this morning I am happy to say I believe it is closer to truth - acceptance of all things spoken and unspoken, done and undone is what makes a friendship.  I am who I am, you are who you are, if you don't answer or I don't get back to you, you know I love you, and that whatever circumstances keep us from the proverbial holiday visit - my kids playing football in the street with neighbors, miraculously losing auditory recognition of my beckoning voice, being buried under two feets of cardboard boxes and wrapping paper, cooking a potato galette or pumpkin cheesecake, the family you must see during the few short days before you fly back to your frozen tundra and everyday life, or the job that took you away years ago...those are the same things that bond me to you and you to me. 

Back in our early twenties we may have taken it personally (and I think we did, didn't we?), but time passes and leaves you with the people meant to surround you, even if they have to do it with an invisible arms' reach that stretches for thousands of miles.  With experience and surprise, we discuss the permanence and impermanence of all things - which is a subtle way of telling each other...hm, how can I not sound like a Hallmark card here...that we are to each other a warm bowl of mac and cheese on a a cold day, a chilled glass of spiked somethin somethin at the beach mid-summer.

I love you guys - and you know who you are.  Here or there, it's all the same.

Merry Christmas.

Sam 

I'm not talking about Christmas (but incidentally, that is five days away)...I am talking about Spring Training 2007.

64 days until the first Padres spring training game, according to the latest schedule I saw.  You see, I needed something besides Christmas to countdown, with the daily monotony of "HOW MANY MORE DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS MAMA?  WHEN DO WE GET TO OPEN PRESENTS?"  My present, aside from my healthy happy family (TYG) arrives in spring, appropriately, my favorite season. 

Baseball season starts again, and life around here starts fresh, clean, new...why wouldn't it?  The grass is green and freshly mown, the balls are crisp white, the uniforms haven't yet made contact with dirt, and the air waits for the right frequency to carry the sound of a ball flying through the air, smacking against a bat, or a whoosh as it hits the inside of the catcher's worn glove.

But 2007 will be no ordinary season, 2007 is extraordinary, 2007 finds Greg Maddux in a Padres jersey.  I know, I know, I'm beating the same old drum (holding the phone, waiting for the sun to come out in 64 days), but I just can't help it, people.  I'm superstitious about odd-numbered years and I think this may save it.

How can this not be a good year, when on the mound you have one of nine pitchers in history to win 300 games and have 3000 strikeouts?  (He has 333 wins to date) One of three pitchers in history to have 3000 strikeouts and less than 1000 walks?  Do you know how hard that is to do these days with five-man rotations?  While you consider that, I'll throw this out too - he won more games in the 90s than any other pitcher.

Not to mention his 16 gold gloves and hitting ability.

Christmas for me - and my hubby - is April through October, when the sun and a few high clouds cover the game that "reminds us of all that was once good, and could be again" (FOD)...like a kid who wants a shiny new bicycle or dress up clothes, I have been asking the baseball elves for years to bring this legend to San Diego, now the day has come.

What more could I want come five days from now, at the crack of dawn when our babies  pounce on us in our bed begging to be taken to the tree where Santa has left them gifts? 

A Maddux jersey would be nice.

My husband wore all black today - with a grey tie.  You see, Jeff Bagwell, first baseman of the Houston Astros announced his retirement officially.  Astros fan to the end - Bagwell worshipper,  my hubby - so the mourning period has begun.

As I sauteed shrimp in cayenne, Old Bay, and lemon pepper, as the broccoli roasted in the oven and warmed the house, my husband sat at the kitchen table with his arms around the laptop, as if he was hugging an old friend, eyes watery - and watched the coverage of Bagwell speaking to the press about staying within the organization, working with young players, how he learned a lot from Cami (sniff sniff)...and hubby must be very depressed because he had a second helping of jasmine rice with pan juice from the shrimp - something he never does.  Carbs were his solace, not his enemy tonight.  That is an unfortunate behavior he has adapted from me after seeing me comfort with food for sixteen years.  Culinary folie a deux.

It is truly the end of an era.  Bagwell's stats: 449 home runs, 1529 RBIs, 1401 walks and 969 extra base hits.

http://mlb.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/news/article.jsp?ymd=20061206&content_id=1753053&vkey=news_mlb&fext=.jsp&c_id=mlb

Bagwell has extarordinary character and leadership ability, and the Astros will miss him.  Come spring training time and into the regular season, you will hear him referenced many times during Houston games.

I think I have been involuntarily listening to this eulogy through my husband for long enough, don't you think?

Well, if I were an Astros fan I suppose I would be forlorn as well, but after we watched Bagwell talk to the press (we watched the whole thing), I double-clicked on "Padres Introduce Maddux".  I find it very hard to be sad, even vicariously for the man I love, when my baseball dream has come true, as his baseball nightmare has begun.

I watched Maddux talk about how good he felt pitching this past year, saying that as long as he can locate his fastball and change speeds successfully, everything would be fine.  I know this to be true.  He also stated that he loved hitting and facing other pitchers.  That gets me fired up and ready for pre-season tomorrow, but alas, I have to wait another few months.  I'll be googling Greg daily.

So Goodbye Number Five, Hello Number 31 - one era has ended, another begun.

Too bad...sure would have been fun to see Bags hit against Maddux in San Diego.

...You'll find that and other fabulous quotes in Field of Dreams, the movie, and Shoeless Joe, the book.

My best friend - I have two, Amy (since 1987) and Kim (since 1985), Amy in this case, lives in Iowa.  The California girl made her way Midwest after high school, ended up taking care of her Grandma in Iowa, where she met Prince Charming (I love the guy), got married (the caterer had the day wrong, but Amy had nerves of steel on her wedding day), and had a baby (Brody, exactly three weeks older than my baby, Melia). 

So now Amy, who doesn't know baseball movies verse by verse and quote by quote (that is entirely my quirk), missed the Field of Dreams reference in my last blog and felt a little Iowa pride in my "No offense Iowa".  I borrowed the Heaven/Iowa reference and applied it to California.  I had to for the purpose of my double entendre.

Baseball/Heaven - Baseball/Life - Ghostly Baseball Apparitions/Ken Caminiti - Maddux Pitching/Dreams Come True ... I could go on and on, but you know what I mean.

This time of year is what George Will likens to a drought - no baseball, a long thirsty time until even pre-season games begin.  Don't get me wrong, I love football (NCAA especially), but baseball seems more spiritual, it's more peaceful, and it is highly intellectual due to all of the strategy and math involved (how the HELL do you calculate an ERA?  I'll never get it).  Uh-oh, I am channeling another baseball movie character...Annie Savoy.  That would be Bull Durham - and that is another blog.

Bear with me.  Baseball is as centric and relevant to life as food, in my opinion.  Baseball and food have rich history, there are so many stories there.  The Food Network programs on food in the American baseball stadiums sends me reeling and logging on to Expedia to plan a baseball vacation.

We lost Cami but the baseball Gods gave us Mad Dog..."I think you better stay here, Ray."

"You're gonna write about it?" -- "Yeah, I'll write about it.  It's what I do"

(Field of Dreams, again)

George Will says "Baseball, it is said, is only a game.  True.  And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona.  Not all holes, or games, are created equal."

You can look it up!

334 wins, 197 losses, 3.08 lifetime ERA.

Born in April, month of the diamond. 

GREG MADDUX IS A PADRE!

I have waited years for this.  Greg Maddux, one of the best pitchers of all time, is on the San Diego Padres, my home team. 

Last time I saw him pitch was about eight years ago, when Ken Caminiti, another favorite player of mine, homered off him - that was bittersweet, but watching my two favorite players try to outwit each other (the odds were in favor of Greg there, sorry Cami, and may God rest your soul), but even the masterful Greg Maddux could not always match up against the Herculeian strength and warrior-like intention of Ken Caminiti.  That game was perfect, it was even before I had kids, so no one was tugging at my sweatshirt asking for cotton candy. 

Now I get to see Greg Maddux pitch again, all the time, in fact, I will be in field level seats, eating a Rubio's Fish Tacos wearing a Maddux jersey.  I'll be studying Greg Maddux's cool tenacity and stealth strategy on the mound, the way he studies the batters who face him.  40 years old, so what?  The odds are still in Greg's favor. 

Unlike many pitchers who get you with speed, Greg Maddux is a brilliant locator - I would say the most accurate in the history of the game.  That is exactly why he is still so deadly on the mound - his weapon hasn't lost any power with torn rotator cuffs or arm injuries - his weapon is and always has been the ability to place the ball wherever he wants it.  That is talent, something you can't teach, something discipline won't give you (but he has that, too, by the way).  What Maddux has doesn't appear in red digital numbers on a screen behind home plate.  What Maddux has appears in the eyes of the hitters facing him.

I have had the pleasure and luck to see baseball legends play in San Diego - Tony Gwynn, Ken Caminiti, Trevor Hoffman, Steve Garvey, I've gone to Padres games for more than twenty-years now ... come April I get to watch Greg Maddux in my hometown, without having to hear that horrible chant coming from Braves Stadium, without gritting my teeth at the fact that he plays for the Padres' rival team.  He'e here.  For two years we got him.

For two years I can take lessons from baseball and apply them to my life, like I have done before I even knew I was doing it.  For two more years baseball can be a metaphor for life here in our ballpark by the sea, for two years I can take cues from one of the best - he can stare you down, get inside your head, accomplish his goal with composure and shake your hand after the game...all that and I get to smell the fresh-cut grass on the field, the inside of my son's glove, and hear the sound of the ball crack off the bat.  Oh yeah, and eat fish tacos.

Is this heaven?  No, Sam, it's San Diego.  No offense, Iowa.

If it were heaven, Ken Caminiti would be sitting beside us.

My column for the December issue of Mom Writers Literary Magazine (www.momwriterslitmag.com) has a specific line..."lots of sunshine", because I like that more than dreary, dull, over-used "silver lining".

I love cloudy days, it's no secret that I love a good downpour of rain, making pilgrimages to snowlands, watching a powerful storm churn up some good size waves and not at all last, and certainly not least, the way the pavement smells and steams after a tropical mid-summer rainshower.

Because - forgive me for being trite - there is sunshine in my soul and in my spirit at all times.  The weather is incidental because my mind is set to happy.  It's a decision.  It's an inner thing, if you don't have it there, you won't get it anywhere else.

The climate is so temperamental here in So Cal.  I decided long ago that external conditions were no reason to cause internal unrest.

Does the same hold true for daily life?  You bet.  The energy flowing in and out of all of us, all around the universe is too fragile to feel or send out anything else.  

Thank you God for this sunny autumn (it is not yet the winter solstice) day.  Though my skin tone and hair type favor the dampness of the Pacific Northwest, you have placed me in Paradise - I may not know the reason, which may cause a pensive stare rather than a thankful smile - but I'll go with it.  I am so blessed.  I am so thankful.  Cloudy skies or Santa Ana - I welcome the climate that envelops me, the wind that carries me.

Sunshine starts in the heart.        

"Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves" - Carl Jung

...if we allow that to happen.

What would this world be like without sinister self-righteousness and pre-judging of others? I imagine it would have loaves, fishes, wine and lotus flowers.

I say "pre-judging" because that is all fallible humans are capable of.  We can never rightly judge another because we have not lived as they have, in their skin, from their first breath.  Rather than judge someone, I will them away.  I pray for their highest good, far, far from me.  I don't know how I lived thirty-five years doing it any other way...oh, yes I do - I spun around in cicles and dug my heels in the ground...getting nowehere, but at the very least building up a good vocabulary. 

I am no Bible scholar, but I think it was Jesus who said "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone" If that doesn't bring someone to question themselves, it should.

Stones are sooo lower consciousness.