But I Always Thought That I'd See You Again

Leftover Albondigas Soup

This was one of those illusory type of days that happen after someone passes.  You can't grasp the news as a heavy fog rolls over all of your thoughts.  I walked around, outside of my body in a seemingly non-existent world all day.  Nothing felt real except for these two oven tacos.  I literally threw two corn tortillas on a sheet pan and slathered them in olive oil before filling them with melty cheese and meat, then schmooshed them down with a spatula.  I was probably crying the whole time.  In a hot oven they stayed until slightly crispy and for some reason, tasted like the best thing ever created.  Dad would have liked them for a snack and as the patriarchal foodie, probably would have appreciated or at least understood the nervous eating. 

And Then It Happened, It Took Me By Surprise

My dad went back in the hospital on this day, back in February.  We didn't know he would pass in 4 days.  I don't know what's worse, knowing it now or not knowing what will come, then.   

But people live an entire life in our minds whether they are here still with us, or after they've moved on.  With him on the brain, I recalled one year and for a period of time, straight out of the blue, my dad began making breakfast for my sister and I before grade school back in Fort Wayne.  My mother, worked nights at Wayne Candies and I guess they agreed on this strange arrangement.   

I remember coming downstairs, groggy, after dressing quickly without my mom's guidance which lead to some bad clothes choices and sometimes dirty socks.  The house still cold and dark, then the bright florescent overhead light and sounds of the transistor radio on the kitchen counter playing songs like This Magic Moment and Wedding Bell Blues louder than I was prepared to hear.  And my dad, smiling and more upbeat and happier than I was prepared to see.  I can imagine his big teeth and red face greeting me, asking how I wanted my eggs, like I was a real person.  Before this, he treated me like some random goofy kid that had no say in these matters.  I hated early mornings, being woken up period, ever.  I despised going to school, so my mood was less than stellar.  But I quickly learned, one must stay positive when attending dad's big breakfasts.  And grateful.  What I really wanted was warm Cream of Wheat and my mother but it turned out bacon, eggs, and toast was actually pretty special.   Sitting in the high back wooden chairs at the little table across from my sister in a smoky kitchen thick with the smell of bacon and again, the pop sounds of the late sixties blaring was so different that it spun my little morning world.  I realized that year that my dad had a completely other side, I'd never seen.  Everyone was moody in my house, me being no exception but dad taking care of household things, looking semi-happy to see us, was just bizarre.  Even though I was not ready to jump head first into rock and roll mornings, it happened and turned out to be one of my most treasured mysteries and memories of my dad.   

Sheet pan breakfast of potatoes and cherry tomatoes with eggs and bacon. 

Hey (COVID) 19, No We Can't Dance Together

My 96 year old dad microwaves sweet potatoes and eats them for breakfast out in Tucson, as a supplement to the big breakfast burritos my nephew-in-law makes him. I love that he keeps a good appetite.  Sweet Potatoes are such a great Pandemic Pantry idea.  I baked off a couple giants ones to stuff and reheat the next day.  But seeing pics of my dad recovering from a recent cough in the thick of this pandemic, looking so optimistic, peeling these sweet orange Vitamin filled potatoes, made me so grateful and full of love, that I had to eat one quickly to share in the moment from way over here in Brooklyn.

I mashed the pulp in a pan with a pat of butter, a little almond milk, cinnamon, seeds & nuts, honey and for crunch I crumbled up a Nature bar.  Food during this quarantine tastes different, it feels more purposeful.  The fact that my dad is healing and keeping himself going gives me inspiration to stay focused on remaining healthy in mind and body during this time.

My dad sporting his new eyeglasses and feeling good!

Old Man Take A Look at My Life, I'm A Lot Like You

I enjoyed a take-out Steak & Corn salad from Habana To Go and was excited that I had my own homemade hot sauce to eat with it, along with some of their guacamole and chips.  I know what it takes to put a meal together even if it's work I love, it's still work.  So when I begin a meal like this where I made little to no effort, endorphins and serotonin shoot out like fireworks.  Foodies will know this feeling.

And I was super happy to receive a pic from my niece of my foodie pops enjoying a nice outdoor lunch in Arizona where he had his peppers that he always eats fresh with his meal.  My dad's strong appetite has always been to me a symbol of his love of life and seeing him take on those raw jalapenos at 96 is such a testament to his strong will.  He is definitely no saint but seeing him tackle a full plate does fill my heart with love for him.

And earlier that day at work the staff cafeteria served these surprisingly cute spinach stuffed ravioli in cream sauce.  I added the vegetables to make it a Primavera.  Even though white pasta, cream and ricotta are all off limits I figured it couldn't hurt to partake in just a few.  Foodies know, when you get a culinary opportunity you should always strike while the oven is hot!

For the Benefit of Mr Kite, There Will Be a Show Tonight on Trampoline

Corny Hens

Someone had posted one of those memes that you respond to with your own personal story.  I believe it said name one thing your father taught you.

Yep, here it is.

I rode to work with this on the brain and couldn't shake it.  I thought of snide, funny comments.  Then got sincere and melancholy.  By the time I arrived at work I had an actual pure thought.  My dad taught me to never quit learning.  His interests, albeit usually self serving and not necessarily shared, were something I observed intently and saw firsthand the value.  A simple example would be when he got excited to prepare a new meal that he craved.  How his whole being changed.  His face lit up and his actions all centered on this creation.  He was driven, focused and clearly he had forged some newfound happiness.  It was contagious too. Sometimes I didn't even understand what he was trying to make but still became enticed, feeding off his momentum.  Generally he zeroed in on the how's of life and I believe he still explores ideas and although much less, he takes it upon himself to pick up a book or article and learn about random matters.  Even as a girl I remember him pulling my thoughts on assorted topics and it gave me such a sense that I mattered and could contribute to the world.  A real conversation with my dad.  That feeling of seeing with my own eyes him actually listening to me, the mere beer fetcher!  That was rare though.  Midwestern 70's dads were grouchy and drank a lot.  They had the weight of the family unit on their shoulders.  It was a different time. Unfortunately young girls were not the most valued commodity at that time either.  So I fed off these tiny morsels of attention and built up my own curiosities.  Come to think of it,  this was not unique to my dad, my mother had a slew of ideas and could talk a blue streak if anyone would let her but like us they were not encouraged to bloom like my dads.  It was a taught behavior to nurture my dad's good moods.

But this learned talent allowed me to open my own horizons to thoughts and ideas, leave my depressing lonely setting behind.  Separate to my dad, my enthusiasm revolved around the whys.  

Examining reason is both rewarding and a curse.  And like little Mexican-American girls in the 70s or women in general, I don't think much value is put on the information.

my personal treat, the livers sauteed in butter - salt and pepper...so good!

Cornish hens stuffed with peppers, onions, garlic and celery and herbs.  Roasted with potatoes.

Butter toasted banana bread - the best idea yet!

Sometimes It Hurts So Badly I Must Cry Outloud

A Blue Moon.  Two full moons in one month.  I can't handle more emotion than is regularly allotted. I can see great sadness and overwhelming beauty in almost every view. Mind you this is whilst I'm juggling all this heavy regret and sticky melancholy.  I should have done so many more nice things for my mom years ago.  She deserved to have that.  She had given so much of herself.  And as a woman, she was exceptional.  Had she allowed her ego to thrive, she would have lead a different life. But she didn't. Why and how could I live my days as if her state wasn't of a daily concern? 

My dad pictured here going to see Davis Airforce base's largest aircraft boneyard in the world. His reflection and posture in this picture had me bawling.  At 94, I would give anything to know his thoughts at that moment?  Just seeing the photograph allows me to consider my own. And of course, it will be sad.

My thoughts during these full moons go through a process similar to endorphin injections. Everything becomes enhanced as if I have the photo filter tools built in to see life in X-Pro II or turn it down to Lo-Fi and get my heart rate so low I feel as small as a grain of sand.  Hearing is super keen and I feel my Indian sky people have hold of my arms and legs.  My energy is not my own.

My appetite is never at rest but during the lunar event my tastebuds really kick into high gear.  Ricotta, mushroom, spinach pizza slices with chili flakes.  Yes! on every level.