A Little Legislative Humor -- and Gratefulness

More and more people are having to make the tough decision to pay the rent or buy groceries - or - take care of a health issue.
I work at a free clinic; a clinic that provides free primary healthcare to the uninsured of our community. Unfortunately it's a service that is sorely needed, as one-third of our adult population is uninsured; the working poor.

I've been in Tallahassee advocating for this clinic - actually, I've been inexhaustibly begging for funding by meeting with legislators, legislative staff, and department heads. It's been invigorating, challenging, and educational, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that it's also been exasperating, tiring, and, enlightening.

My parents had much respect for the voting and legislative process and taught me to have that same regard. Although I've never been involved, I do know that the legislative process can be long, tedious, complex and frustrating. Indeed, it is much more difficult to pass a bill than it is to kill one. There are numerous times and places during the legislative process at which a bill can die. Only a very few actually survive to become law.

The same is true for changes or additions to the budget.
In a nutshell:
First you have to find someone from the House to sponsor your request.
Then it's good to try to get someone from the other party to co-sponsor the request.
After you complete all of the paperwork, you submit it to the sponsor.
The sponsor submits it for review.
It's presented to committee, and if you're lucky, it passes that first round.
Then it goes to the Senate for review.
That's where you especially need an advocate on your side.
And if all goes as you planned -- you learn three months later if your budget item has made it through to the end.

I began my morning ready to face the world (okay, a few department heads), and win them over with my positive attitude, my infectious passion, and my vast knowledge. Since it was 25-degrees this morning, and because I feared being late (and getting lost), I stepped into my Jimmy Choos, put on my full-length wool coat and took a cab from the hotel to the Capitol building.
The cab ride is $2.50 then mileage -- my ride was $3.00!
How funny is that?
So, there I was sitting in the waiting room 45-minutes early. Surely I get points for my eagerness. And there I was stuck in high heels carrying my 20-pound coat. Now I lose points for my stupidity.
All good, though, because after my first meeting of the day, I had time to walk back to the hotel, dump the heels and the coat, and switch to flats for the remainder of the day.

Where I DIDN"T stay.

Where I DID stay.

For the next five-hours, I met with legislators and aides, hearing their agendas for this new session and talking about my agenda for the future of the clinic.
I don't use other people's names in my blog, but please know how much I appreciate those legislators who are willing to go out on a limb, cross party lines and sponsor the funding request. It will travel a long and bumpy road, but at least it's out of the locked garage and on the move, and for that, I'm forever grateful. If the request makes it all the way through to the final hearing, we won't know anything until April. Patience is definitely a virtue.

I've never imagined doing what I did today. I've never given any thought to going to Tallahassee, our state's capitol, to advocate for the much-needed services provided by the clinic. But then, again, I never thought about facing our local government officials, either -- and I did that, too. (with success)

A photo of the old Capitol Building with the gold dome, which is now a museum,

and the new Capitol Building right behind it, which is 22 stories high.

When I walked back to the hotel this evening in the cool, crisp air, I did it with a huge smile on my face, while thinking, "Ain't nothin' gonna' break my stride."
Hopefully, that's not short-lived, but don't worry, I'm not stupid.
I know the chances of the request surviving aren't great; that it will most likely get beat up from end to end. But I am proud of what I did on this visit to our state's legislature. Folks there now know what the clinic is and how important it is to the overall well-being of our community. If the request hits the cutting room floor, it won't be because the clinic is an unknown blip across Florida's financial radar.

Fall comes late to Florida.

For sure -- my dad and mom would have been proud, too.
Actually, they were both with me all day, so I know they are.
Now we just need to pray the funding comes through.

Dad's wedding band and Mother's earrings made into a heart pendant for a necklace.

Wish you were here to talk to!

Friends are Like a Favorite Pair of Jeans

"Friends" at work are very important to us.
 During this past year, many people have asked me what the most difficult thing has been to replace now that I'm no longer working for a large company. My answer has consistently been, "The people."
You spend most of your awake hours with co-workers, so you would naturally think of them as friends.
But sooner or later we learn they were not.
They were merely acquaintances, friends of convenience, and people who helped you make sense of the confusing reality of organizational life. You shared a common experience and provided each other with emotional support. When you met at the coffee pot or in the lunch room you talked about what you had in common - the work, your boss, the organization. Once you left, you learned that was pretty much all you had in common.
It's a very sobering experience.
The exception is the woman and colleague who was my assistant editor.
The joy of working with her was one of the great experiences of my journalism career. We were always on the same page when it came to wanting to right the wrongs pertaining to the social inequities of our community, she provided leadership on our annual Season Preview edition, and she helped develop our public relations expertise into an excellent extension of our publication.
The two of us live very busy and separate lives now, but - thankfully for Facebook - we keep in touch through social media and texting. Last night, though, with spouses in tow, we met for dinner.
And, we picked up exactly where we left off! I'm grateful for our conversation, grateful for her support and grateful to know that it's real and will always be there - as comfortable as a favorite pair of jeans.

And speaking of jeans, I have an easy project using just that - an old pair of jeans and some ribbon.

I have a habit of taking my old jeans and turning them into a pair of shorts before I completely get rid of them, but I've always thrown out the part I cut off. Not any more. Now, with minimal effort, you can turn the legs of the jeans into cute wine or liquor bottle gift bags.

Supplies:
An old pair of jeans
Sewing machine and thread
Scissors
Ribbon

Cut the cut-off pant leg to about a 11.5-inch length.
Turn the cut off legs inside out and stitch up the end that is not the hem of the pants. It's best to use a sewing machine, but hand stitching is fine as long as it's a tight stitch.

Turn right side out and cut a hole or slit through the outside layer of the hem. This will form the casing for the ribbon.

Attach a safety pin to the end of your ribbon and run it through that hole and then all the way around the casing that has been formed by the hem, and then back out.
Put a wine bottle inside and tie it up with a pretty bow.

Viola!  Done!
Cute, right?

Of course, you could always make bags out of left over fabrics or from the legs of other pants.
Have fun with it.

I should have done this to take to my friend last night!

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me to sew.

The Institute Cookbook - Economical Recipes Designed to Meet the Needs of the Modern Housekeeper.

   I suppose there was a time when I could have been considered a "housekeeper." Perhaps when I was a stay-at-home mom. That was a long, long time ago, but I don't think I'd mind packing up my profession into a neat box and passing it forward to some lucky beneficiary in order for me to be able to stay home and tend to those things that made a woman what she was in 1913. We'll have to see how the biggest most ginormous lottery pans out tomorrow night.

   Lately, I've had a hankerin' for some homemade soup, so I started going through my new-to-me "The Institute Cookbook" by Helen Cramp from 1913 and found a recipe for beef soup that sounded delicious.
   The problem was, however, that I didn't want to take the time to make my own beef stock. The recipe for beef stock included a trip to the butcher, crushing bones and extracting the gelatin (see below, click on the photo and it will enlarge).

   My favorite line in the above recipe for Meat Stock, "It's not necessary to remove the scum that rises." See that's the problem with that era, the scum bags weren't removed!

   But I digress.

   Since crushing bones wasn't in my order of the day and I was missing some of the ingredients, and the above recipe would take two days to complete (seriously) -- I decided to improvise and come up with my own recipe. I made it in the morning before going to work, then finished it when I got home.

Ingredients (all measurements are approximate):

2/3 cup of sliced carrots                 1/2 cup diced onion
2 garlic cloves, minced                  3 cups fat-free beef broth
1/2 cup cut, fresh green beans       1/2 cup tomato sauce
1/2 tsp. dried basil                          1/2 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 cup diced zucchini                   3/4 cup diced tomatoes
1/2 to 3/4 cup of cooked ground beef
salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

   In a large saucepan that has been sprayed with non-stick cooking spray, saute' the carrot, onion and garlic over medium heat, until softened, for about 10-15 minutes.
   Add the broth, green beans, tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, basil, oregano, salt and pepper, and bring to a boil.
   Lower heat to simmer, cover and let cook for about 30-minutes.
   (Then, at this point, you can turn off the heat and go to work. When you come home, you can re-start.)
   Turn the heat on to medium, add the cooked ground beef and the diced zucchini.
   Cook for about 20-30 minutes. You don't want the zucchini to get too smooshie.
   Serve hot.

   The soup, served with a small salad, was perfect for this very chilly Florida night. My husband even went back for seconds.
   Day three of my 30-day commitment to ramp up my creative cooking juices is a success.

   It's not quite as easy as opening a can of Campbell's, but it's close.
   I hope you enjoy it. Let me know how it goes.


Love you, Mom.

The Many Shades of Need

   When my mother passed away a few years ago, the question of how I would fill the void she left behind, especially during the holidays, set off a profound sense of confusion, sadness and even resentment. The unfamiliar terrain of navigating through the loss was coupled with the realization that the rest of the world keeps moving on.
   I wanted the world to stop rotating just long enough for me to step off.
Those first few holiday seasons were made bearable by keeping very close to my son and his wife and by keeping extremely busy -- hosting my own gatherings and going to every party we were invited to.
   But this year, everything was different.
   After a scrumptious and abundant Thanksgiving celebrated with my family of siblings, cousins, nieces and spouses, Christmas and the days leading up to it were actually the hardest to maneuver through since Mom's passing.
   Among what I suppose are many of the reasons for my emptiness were the fact that I had received some extremely heart-breaking news just before the holidays, I had some of my own health issues, and my son and his wife had other plans for both of those holidays. I suddenly found myself drowning. I'm not blaming them; not by a long shot. It's my fault -- totally. It's all my fault for becoming so dependent upon others for my sense of happiness during those times that finding it are the most difficult.
   There is a big difference between going to family and friends for love and uplifting and becoming completely dependent upon them for your spirits. The very last thing I ever want to become to my son is a burden.

Codependency has many shades of need.

   Upon realizing that, I now know that:
I cannot allow myself to be that dependent in that way.
I will be filled with nothing but gratitude.
I must take matters into my own hands.
I will be filled with nothing but gratitude.
I must adjust my expectations (in fact, don't have any.
I will be filled with nothing but gratitude.
I will also go back to keeping myself busy.
And, I will be filled with nothing but gratitude.

   Now the holidays are behind me -- all of us. And to that, this year I say, "Thank goodness."

   It rained all day today, so it was just one of those days to give in and let go -- and stay in my jammies. I spent most of the day going through my and my mother's cookbooks and recipe cards. I have vowed to reenter my kitchen, the place that used to make me feel the most secure; where my mind was opened and I could really get my creative juices flowing. It's not a New Year's Resolution, but it is a 30-day commitment. They (whomever "they" are) say that it takes 21 repetitions to create a new habit. They also say we can all endure just about anything for 30 days. So, I'm starting with the first 30 day period, and with healthy cooking in mind.

   This brings me to a God Wink or perhaps even a miracle that happened this past week -- but to tell you about it, I have to start in 2003, so please stay with me.
1.  After moving into this house in which we now live, Mother and I began going through all the magazines we both had been holding on to, all of our cookbooks and the stack of pages torn from magazines at the doctors' and dentists' offices. We had a stack a mile high of things we had decided to get rid of. Some would go in the trash and others would be donated to the hospice thrift store.
Several weeks later, Mother reached for a particular cookbook and it was no where to be found. When I got home from work that day, she was visibly upset. She explained that the cookbook had been given to her by her mother (Ethel) and that it had been given to her by her mother. She used it all the time.
2.  I was devastated and immediately got in my car and drove over to the thrift store. I combed their shelves looking for it, although I wasn't even sure what I was looking for. Little did I know that Mom had done the same thing earlier that day. We never found the book.
3.  Fast forward to 2016, only says ago: My cousin in California posted a photo of a cookbook, saying it had belonged to our grandmother, but was given to him by his dad (my mother's brother). I recognized the cover of the cookbook (published in 1913) as possibly being the book Mother used to go to so often.
4.  Feeling nostalgic, I decided to research and see if I could find any copies of it. It would be fun to have such an old cookbook. Low and behold, I was able to locate three copies of the book, one in Washington DC and two in Oregon. I purchased all three copies, and the first of the three arrived this past week.
5.  As soon as I opened the packaging, I knew it was the same cookbook Mom had so often used, but it's what I saw inside the book that had me nearly fainting.
There, on the first page was this inscription:

Just in case you can't read it, it says "To Ethel from Mother."
Seriously!

I don't know if this is my mother's actual book, but even if it isn't -- at the very least it IS a major God Wink. Right?
I have been on Cloud Nine ever since.

   I wrote a letter to the company that sent the book to me, located in Washington DC, asking if they have any records indicating where this book may have come from. I hope I hear back from them, but even if I don't, I'm ecstatic.

   I did finally take a shower about an hour ago, put clean jammies on and sat down to my computer to try to commit to my blog, again. There's a whole lotta' commitment goin' on. Ha, ha.

   Seriously, though. If you're mourning the loss of a loved one, allow yourself to experience all your emotions (anger, longing, fantasy) without judgement. If tears come, let them flow; if joy arises at a happy memory, embrace it.
   Remember that the irony of a family member passing is that you had to love them first in order to feel the loss. So, loss can be a reminder of love, grief can and will give way to gratitude, and absence, if you allow it, can be the impetus to create new traditions.
   By sharing memories of those we've lost with those we still have, we remind ourselves of the significance people hold in our lives and the Magic of Family.

I love and miss you, Mom and Dad...always will.