Sunday, February 17, 2013

Expect the unexpected

I have a standing date on Sunday nights to meet Jeremy at the couch at 9:00 to plop down in front of the tele and down a glass of wine.
Or, ice cream.
 Not both, both doesn't work so well, as I've come to find out. They are not complimentary no matter what you try, and always ends with a bloaty tummy ache. I always think I am going to blog sometime during the week and be all tidy about the blog, but, it is a rarity that I find the time during the week to sit down, and write. So, in the essence of being under time watch (it is 8:22), I will write fast and furious about what is on my mind.

What is on my mind, is my neighbor. Days ago I received a call from his wife to let me know he had been in a terrible motorcycle accident. It is news you never want to hear, and find yourself holding your breath until you exhale slowly, as you digest the info. The good news is, he is alive (so incredibly grateful), and the major parts have been spared. The bad news, his body has been broken in many places, and the recovery is going to be long, and hard.

The accident was sudden, something no one anticipated, and it got me thinking on expectation. You expect to wake up in the morning. You expect your car to start when you turn the key. You expect to breathe in and out, easily, and continuously. There are no guarantees any of these will happen, but there is expectation, and that is what I believe keeps us from constantly tripping over the fact that we all live very fragile lives.

A sudden event like this can bring expectation to a quick, jerky, halt. Expectation fades to narrow the eyesight on the things that really matter. It is a shearing of a lot of little things, and even some big things, to let the mind center on what is really important when you cut the big picture into two peep holes for your eyes to see what expectation can hide. Love. A binding contract of the heart.

It is hard to know what to do to help sometimes. I bake when I'm nervous, and cook when I feel fidgety. I browsed through recipes to see what I could send along to appease the tasteless hospital food, and decided to make a batch of sweet chipotle mixed nuts to snack on, and a big batch of our marinated lemon ginger chickpeas.

We send them lots of healing prayers and love, and as speedy as recovery as one can have. XO

 Since the chickpeas are so delish, I thought I'd pass along the recipe to y'all. They are good on salad, just plain, scooped up in pita crackers, mixed with a drained can of tuna, as a healthy lunch, or a snack to send along with your littles.



                Marinated Lemon Ginger Chickpeas



            2 Cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed



                6 Tbsp olive oil

                2 large cloves of garlic, minced

                1 tsp finely grated ginger root

                3 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

                1 tsp. kosher salt

                3-4 Tbsp finely minced red onion

                2 tsp finely minced rosemary

                1 tsp dried parsley

                Juice of 1 lemon

                Fresh ground pepper to taste

               

                                         

                                                             Drain your chickpeas






                        Cut up your rosemary, garlic, and red onion, fine. So fine, it'll blow your mind








  Mix all the ingredients together in a bowl, and store in the refrigerator. They will keep very well for weeks, and get better as they age.
         


*********


On a totally unrelated note, I came outside yesterday to find my daughter doing this:









 When one wants to surf so badly, why not make your own board to balance on??? This is how we surf down in the PNW. In 50 degree weather. With Bog boots on. And, fleece.

A bit hillbilly, is it not?

It's 9:22 now, and I am late for my date. I'm taking next week off to find some inspiration and ideas.

See you in two weeks!

1 comment:

  1. I love your posts, your little Grace and your thoughts. The recipe was a bonus ;)

    ReplyDelete