Once the dishes are done, I dry the larger bowls and pans to put away. She’ll move from the table to the floor by my feet, looking longingly at the kitchen sink and counter. She knows cats are not allowed on that counter. This doesn’t stop her from having thoughts … thoughts of jumping up on that counter and exploring the thing that sprays water.

She looks at me and looks at the counter. Me. The counter. I know she’s waiting for me to turn my back or leave the room, so I don’t. Eventually, when all the pots and pans are dry and put away, I stand in the middle of the kitchen and stare at her, daring her to defy the long-held prohibition of cats on kitchen counters.

Thinking about it a little longer, she looks at the counter and looks at me. The counter. Me. Finally, she decides defying house rules in front of one of the humans is likely not worth the trouble. Her eyes wide and bright, her tail pointing to heaven, her ears as perky sat they can possibly be, she lets out a plaintive kitten-like mewl and rubs against my legs, then jumps onto the stool by the window to watch for birds.

Tora thinks she has snookered me with her cuteness, but I know what she’s thinking: “They have to sleep sometime! And then … I shall explore!”

Not being able to face one more night of steamed or stir fried or roasted zucchini, I had to try something different. Unbidden, the thought “zucchini au gratin” popped into my head. Maybe I heard it somewhere. Maybe my brain thought it was being original. Who knows, but it lead me to read a few recipes for such a thing online. They all seemed way too complicated, and I hate complicated. Therefore, I scribbled the ingredients that were the same in all the recipes on a piece of paper and toddled off to the kitchen to wing it and make stuff up as I go along, which is when I most enjoy cooking. LOL!

Anyway, here’s the closet thing to a recipe for what I made tonight. These amounts made a respectable amount for a side dish for two people, so doubling it would be great for 3-4 people (or more, if you like small amounts of side dishes).

1 1/2 cup coarsely grated zucchini

Put it in a colander, salt lightly and toss, and place colander over a bowl to catch the liquids. Set on counter and ignore for about 30 minutes. You can ignore it longer. In fact, longer might be better. The less liquid in the zucchini, the firmer the final dish (I think). When you get back to it, squeeze out as much liquid as you can. I’m lazy. I could have squeezed out more. It’ll still turn out edible and tasty, but it will be more runny. Not a tragedy, in my opinion.

Next…

1 tablespoon butter (or, I suppose, margarine)
1 tablespoon flour

Melt the butter in a skillet, mix in the flour, whisk until it’s really thick and slightly darker than butter color. Bravo! You’ve just made a standard roux! Quickly add all at once and continue whisking…

1/2 cup milk

Congrats! You’ve made a white sauce … or gravy, if you prefer to call it that. Add salt, pepper, and then stir in the zucchini. I had this on low heat while I was doing it, because I wanted the zucchini to cook a little and the whole thing to thicken.

Pour the whole mess into a low, flat baking dish like a pie pan. Individual ramekins might be nice too, for a more formal dinner. Then break out the seasoned bagged stuffing.

Not that instant mix stuff. I mean the simple bags of dried bread cubes/crumbs with some seasonings tossed on one commonly sees around Thanksgiving. Since I bake all our bread products, there is often no stale bread around to make bread crumbs out of, so I keep the stuff on hand at all times. Very handy.

Usually, I would put it in my little food processor and turn it into finer crumbs, but like I said, I’m lazy. I just tossed a bunch of the little cubes on top of the zucchini mix in the pie pan, topped the whole thing with mozzarella cheese (all I had on hand), and bake it in the oven (middle rack) at 400ºF for about 20 minutes (until the top was browned and crusty).

Definitely a basic recipe that can be played with endlessly. I’m having all kinds of ideas. Mostly though, I wish I’d made enough for lunch tomorrow! Good thing I still have some zucchini that needs to be eaten!

“I am not my hair.
I am not my skin.
I am not your expectations.
I am a soul that lives within.”
–India Arie

That is the hair that I am not. Or rather … that is the hair that I soon shall not be. On March 19, 2011 sometime between the hours on 12 pm and 2 pm, that hair is going away. All of it. Every last strand. Right down to the scalp. All of it gone.

It is the hair I have been though, and I have been that hair for a really long time. It’s a fashion accessory, a shield, a security blanket, a statement, a crowning glory, a flirtation tool. I’ve loved it and complained about it in equal measure, but one thing is certain, I will miss it terribly. I will be more naked than I have ever been before, even when fully clothed. This scares me more than a little.

So why do it? Why shave off something I love and will undoubtedly feel pain at losing? Because the existence of cancer in the world makes me sad, and that so many children have to face such a disease at a time in their lives when they should be running in the sunlight and summer breezes laughing and having fun with their friends, they are battling to stay alive. Many of them do not win the battle. Life is often unfair.

Many of these children lose their hair due to the treatments necessary to give them a fighting chance at survival. Even in our somewhat enlightened times, bald children and women are still given odd looks and whispered about … as anyone “out of the ordinary” is. So on top of fighting for their lives and feeling the effects of not only their disease but the treatments they are taking to bring it under control, there is often the added social stigma of looking “out of the ordinary” as well. It would be a lot for an adult to deal with and can be even more so for a child.

My reasons for shaving off my long hair are three-fold: I want to help eradicate cancer from the lives of children so they can all enjoy their youth as I did and as all children should; I want to help assure that children who need cancer treatments are able to receive the best available giving them a chance to live long and happy lives; and I want to stand bald and proud in public and show the world that hair is just hair, it isn’t necessary in order to be beautiful, and it’s OK not to have any … and to be “out of the ordinary” … or EXTRAORDINARY! I don’t have a lot of money, or time, or energy, so the best way I can help St. Baldrick’s accomplish its goal of conquering kids’ cancer is to give of myself and stand beside them and the kids dealing with the disease by shaving my head as a public show of support.

Now with all that said, there’s only one thing that isn’t going as planned: the donations! I know times are hard right now, and we’re all digging deep into our pockets to pay for the rising costs of being alive, but every little bit helps. Don’t feel embarrassed if you can only give a few dollars. I know how that feels! And if you can give more, great! Me shaving my head may bring some measure of awareness to the issue, and it might be a wonderful sign of my solidarity with the kids who didn’t have a choice about whether or not wanted to lose their hair, but the only way childhood cancer gets studied, treated, and hopefully one day CURED is if money gets put in the pot! So I’m asking everyone reading this to please think about skipping that coffee at Starbucks, or having one simple meal at home rather than a dinner out, or dig around in your couch and see how much change you find, and to toss some money in the pot to defeat childhood cancer.

Only 37 more days to go … so DONATE NOW!

“Mr. McCance, you are a douche-bag.”
–George Takei

Every human being in America should feel at least some measure of unease, if not outrage, that a person of my small stature was thrown to the ground, pinned down, and stepped on for daring to express a political opinion that was different from the majority surrounding her, or that a journalist was handcuffed and harassed for asking uncomfortable questions of someone seeking political office, or any of the other many, many instances of violence and aggression that have been occurring in the United States of America the past few years. There’s simply no argument to be made. No debate to be had. There aren’t two sides to the coin. No matter what political persuasion one holds dear, violence, aggression, and harassment due to differences of political opinion should be abhorrent to all people. In particular … freedom-loving Americans.

If the United States of America is so exceptional –so special and so much better than every other country on this planet– then why are we beginning to look like a country where voter intimidation and the suppression of political expression is condoned –if not provoked– by portions of the populace? Do we really want to live in a country where power and strength and number makes right? Where minorities comprised of those who are different in thinking or being are trod upon by the mob of the many? By the powerful? By the most angry and aggressive? All along the course of human history these methods of determining the rule of law and the structure of governmental power have been used … and are being used to this day in some parts of the world. There are many excellent examples available which show what madness can be found down those paths.

The city on the hill is glorious and golden as well as a being desperate pit of wretched despair, depending on one’s circumstances and point of view. I’d suggest that those advocating and perpetrating hostile actions and aggression in their attempts to form the world they wish to live in consider carefully the methods by which they create the America they seek to call home sweet home. In their mad rush to birth their concept of societal perfection into existence, they will simultaneously be creating a pit of wretched despair for those unlike themselves, with different ways of thinking and being. The weak and timid. The peaceful. The ill. The others. But tides turn, ideologies rise and fall, and majorities become minorities, and one day the rules they create and the injustices they allow themselves to perpetrate will come back to haunt them.

In America today, those who most quickly decry the current governmental administration as fascist are the very same ones who seem so terribly eager to harass, push, kick, punch, and step on others or trample their rights in other ways, some even going so far as to threaten use of force to gain political power and create their perfect vision of American life … if the people of this country don’t hand it to them freely or our democratically elected representatives don’t bow to their demands. Whether or not they would mean to do it, they seem determined to create the very fascist state they claim to fear. Of course, fascism isn’t as ugly when one is a member of the privileged group is it or at least imagines oneself to be?

But as I said, tides turn, things change, and what’s preferred and privileged becomes denigrated and oppressed. This cycle can be seen occurring over and over again through time all across this planet, which is why the great experiment known as the United States of America was meant to be different. We, the people of this country, are meant to share our collective power for the welfare and security of us all. We, the people, are meant to speak our minds truthfully, freely, and peacefully express our ideas, plans, concerns, hopes, dreams and fears –both personally and through our elected representatives.

From that cacophony, through open debate and compromise, a consensus of opinion is to be formed for the benefit of us all, which does not come at the expense of the welfare, freedom, and security of others. We, the people who make up this great experiment, are meant to be equal to one another. We are meant to fight with and for each other to create that equality and guarantee our freedoms are enjoyed by all –no matter our differences– and no one group or person is meant to use the tip of a sword or the heel of a boot to gain power and rule over another.

Of course, we are still far from being a paragon of what we should be, and there is nothing at all keeping us from traveling whatever path we, as a country, wish to take. There is nothing to preclude us from giving free rein to our baser instincts –our lesser selves– and allowing that path to take us farther from our ultimate goal of equality, freedom, and justice for all. I suppose there’s nothing to preclude us from collectively deciding we no longer wish to be what our founders set in motion and hoped would survive. All that’s required is for good people to say nothing or even worse, buy into the hate-mongering and fear-mongering and join the righteous angry mob. Those who would place themselves in the position of supposed privilege will do so, whether they truly believe the course they are on is correct or not, if they see the opportunity to find themselves at the top of the heap.

So I warn all Americans to be aware of the society they create for themselves, and I ask all Americans to imagine how that society would look from the point of view of others wholly unlike themselves. Is it still the shining city on the hill? Or is it a desperate pit of wretched despair? Power can be acquired by many means, including violence and aggression, and it can be maintained for years, decades, and sometimes even centuries. But just as the world turns, tides change … ideologies rise and fall, and majorities become minorities. The privileged become the disadvantaged. The boot worn on the foot of the powerful one day may be pressed into the face of its owner the next.

Be careful what you ask for…

It’s entirely possible there are errors of the spelling and grammatical variety.

I will not be apologizing.

Joplin behind, a low-hanging thumbnail moon ahead, Orion sits on my right shoulder, & the sky is full of stars.

We entered Missouri, and drove a while in the dark. Then sun began to creep up over the horizon. It was a beautiful morning too, with a gorgeous sunrise and thick flog clinging to low-lying areas.

Being as it was now morning, we’d been on the road all night, and we hadn’t had anything but one homemade sandwich each hours previous (and lots of coffee), it was obviously time for breakfast. What better place to stop than Eureka? We arrived far too earlier to eat at the first White Castle I’d seen, so Denny’s it was. Denny’s is good. No real surprises withe the food, and the coffee is always strong. There never fails to be a WiFi connection as well, so I had the chance to get online and sort out some problems I’d been having posting from my phone.

The only interesting thing about the Denny’s in Eureka was that a) it had a smoking section (which we aren’t used to having), and b) said section was filled to overflowing with Tea-Party-thinking people. They were loud too. We were becoming agitated and feeling uncomfortable with the (stupid) disgusting “American” attitudes being expressed. We finished up our coffee, went to get gasoline, and got back on the road.

Instead of going through Saint Louis like we usually do, we went around. It was a little longer, but the view was more pleasant, as was the driving. Except for all the roadwork. I swear it seems like every town along the way had out orange cones with no visible roadwork being done. Like they were just trying to annoy drivers … or catch them in speed traps. We had been seeing a whole bunch of state troopers (in every state). But before long we crossed the Mississippi River.

I finally had to sleep, because I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I assume the part of the journey I slept through went without crisis, because the next thing I know, Lin is waking me up saying we are almost there! Thirty more minutes! Woo hoo! By now, we were both achy, cranky, and really tired. I can imagine Lin more tired than I, seeing as I did manage to sleep for about four or so hours. Still, cross-country road trips are tiring whether one is driving or not. I was ready to not be in a moving truck as soon as possible!

We crossed the state line into Indiana … and ran into a wall of non-moving traffic. A very long wall of non-moving traffic. Luckily, we were in Lin’s old stomping grounds by now, so he took the next exit, and we fled the expressway. I had no idea at all where we were, but Lin did, and he handily got us to his mom’s house. There was much rejoicing all around, then there was food, a nice hot bath in a jacuzzi tub, and I laid down for a nap. No idea what anyone else was doing. I was enjoying seeing the inside of my eyelids in a non-moving state. I woke up refreshed, and vacation officially began … with more food, hanging out with Jerry, and more sleeping. Felt great to finally be at our destination. Let the fun begin!

TO BE CONTINUED…

Next up? The family reunion.

Getting out of Texas is always a pain. It’s so … LARGE, and we live right in the middle of it. Doesn’t matter what direction we go, it’s always a while before we can officially say we are out of the state. I always joke that getting out of Texas is the longest part of any road trip, but it isn’t much of a joke. Also, there’s not much of Texas I haven’t seen a million times before, so it isn’t a terribly interesting drive either. It’s just what we have to get through to get to the good stuff.

It took three hours to get to Dallas. Dallas, as always, was insane and probably more so from our point of view because it was Friday night and everyone was out and about downtown. Somehow, we screwed up on our exit, but it wasn’t a major crisis … aside from some moron having tossed some live flares into the middle of the access road. What the hell? We got headed in the right direction and went on our merry way. I know everyone always complains about the traffic is cities not their own, but seriously, the drivers in Dallas are INSANE! Speed is definitely the name of the game on their highways. Lots and lots of speed.

Two hours later we somehow missed the Welcome to Oklahoma sign. We thought we were still in Texas, though the ever increasing number of Choctaw casinos should have been a huge clue we weren’t. That and the horrible condition of the highways. It wasn’t until we passed a sign for Caddo-Kennefic^† that it dawned on me we’d finally left Texas. Duh. We hadn’t been in Texas for a while.

Eventually we made our first pit stop in a place called McAlester, OK. I was more than ready to get out of the truck and move my body. I was also more than ready for a bathroom break and some more caffeine, and the truck was ready for some gasoline. We could have spent a few minutes more not moving, but Lin is one of those people who likes to go, go, go and not stop, so as soon as all our immediate needs were taken care of, back on the road we went.

Oklahoma was awful. We’d apparently forgotten when deciding which way to head north that the last time we went through Oklahoma the highways were terrible. I don’t even mean slightly terrible or just bad in spots, I mean awful every bumpy inch of the way across the state. Even the tollways were in awful shape. Then there were the skunks. Dead skunks. EVERYWHERE! Maybe if it hadn’t been late at night I would have some other memories of Oklahoma to report, but all I have or you is the roads were hell and the entire trip through the state smelled of dead skunk. We have since decided to never, ever go through Oklahoma again. Never … ever.

I settled into my seat for a nap, which didn’t go so well thanks to the bumpity-thumpity roads and skunk stench, but I did my best. The next time I paid attention to where we were, there was some uncertainty about whether or not we’d missed the turnpike we were looking for. You see, between the two of us, all we had was one scrap of paper with the highways we needed to be on and a PDF I made of the Google Maps turn-by-turn directions. No actual maps to speak of. None. Not a problem, so long as all the correct turns are made, but not having a map of Oklahoma did lead to a brief period of panic about whether or not the correct turnpike was still to come or had already been passed. At about the same moment I decided we hadn’t passed it yet, we came across it. Shortly thereafter, we were a mere 16 miles from the border of Missouri and the dawn of a new day.

TO BE CONTINUED…

1. † Caddo-Kennefic is now a household in-joke. I said it sounded like a Harry Potter spell, so I spent at least twenty minutes waving around an imaginary wand shouting CADDO_KENNEFIC! Yes, I am five years old, or at least I revert to being five years old while on extremely long road trips. Lin’s just lucky I didn’t start singing the Lora-Lee song I wrote on a family vacation … when I was five years old. LOL!