I've been a bit trapped inside my own brain for the last few months. My blog has suffered. My friends haven't seen me. I've become a total cookbook reading, menu planning, pot stirring, passing out soon after recluse since the opening of A Better World Cafe took over all my might.
Last weekend, I traveled to New Orleans for a conference on community cafes. I represented A Better World along with two other members of our organization. We networked with the other community cafes that currently exist and a great group of people from all over the country that want to join the movement by opening their own cafes in the future. It was a great experience. I was asked to lead some sessions on cooking seasonally. I came back with some great food for thought from other summit participants.
By getting away for a few days, most importantly realizing I can leave the cafe for a few days without any glitches, I've been able to finally shake myself out of my head.
Hoorah!
Sweets bought me a nifty Canon G10 camera for Christmas and I put it through some testing on the trip. The hotel we stayed at was bursting with color, I happily shot away when I had free moments. Just doing something creative (non-food related) again felt really good. I happily edited photos for hours today and it's been a long, long time since I walked away from editing photos professionally that I've wanted to do that. It's funny that when photography was my job, food was my hobby. Now that food is my job, photography wants to be my hobby. Flippity flop goes the world I live in.
Here's to more creative adventures in 2010.
And perhaps some trips- near and far.
Now that's I've stepped out the door in my brain, you can expect to see more of me around here.
We're having a blog party today to celebrate Susanna Gordon, the amazing artistic creator of the Winged Messenger and blogger at Susanna's Sketchbook. I am very lucky to call Susanna a friend and was so happy when I first got an email weeks ago about doing something to honor her. The buzz began to build as a group of bloggers who have been touched by her messengers began to work together, busy like bees coming back to the hive with honey. There have been volleys of emails, polls, wild and fanciful suggestions and most importantly a feeling of thankfulness and appreciation for what Susanna does.
It has been so hard keeping this blog party a surprise. Especially because I'm having dinner with Susanna tonight! When she invited me last night I almost keeled over with the giggles. I can not wait to see her reaction to all the blog love today.
I met Susanna for the first time last year at a blogger's get together. She told me about her winged messengers project. I was so curious to see what they looked like and how she made them. A few months later, I had the opportunity to try out for a spot to take a video training bootcamp. We had to submit a short video piece to apply. Remembering Susanna, I thought this was the perfect time to exercise my curiosity. When I got in touch with her, she generously invited me over to let me interview her and then she showed me the process she goes through to make the messengers. Finally, we went over to the local train station where I documented her releasing a few into the wild.
The concept of guerilla art based in kindness and encouragement for strangers was something I hadn't experienced before. Watching Susanna work, I was hooked.
Based on the tape I submitted, I was accepted into the video program. So it is thanks to Susanna and her messengers that I learned that skill. Unfortunately, that tape was never returned so I can not share it here. Over the last year, I've left my job as a journalist and moved into the culinary field. Susanna has been so supportive of me in the last year.
I try to support her and her art, too. Whenever we get together, I am always bugging her about new ways to spread her message. A book? A non-profit? A world wide winged migration?
It thoroughly pleases me to know so many more people have also been moved and inspired by Susanna's art and spirit. Please follow the blog roll to see the posts of the others celebrating today's blog party.
Thank you, Susanna for just being you.
I've been work, work, working and then working a wee bit more the last few weeks. When the alarm goes off it is dark outside and cold in the house. When I come home, it is usually dark already once more. The moments I spend in the light are fleeting but savored. I drive across the Raritan River each day on the way to the cafe. Seeing the view each time makes me gasp a little. Huge swatches of gold bump up against the blue sky. This past week I've been so inspired by nature's last push for color. The maples are scarlet and orange. Bushes sing out in fuschia melodies as the oaks and elms provide the harmony.
Autumn is my season.
We are making big batches of golden hued butternut squash soup, scarlet roasted beets and pumpkin cupcakes for the cafe. I want people to taste autumn in all it's glory inside each mouthful.
Yesterday we drove around leaf peeping and then rested in a rose garden surrounded by beautiful trees. A rambunctious beagle puppy ran to us to say hello. I think autumn brings out the best and brightest in all of us. We feasted on guinness dipped onion rings, fancy burgers and milkshakes and then watched scary movies until I fell asleep on the couch.
The clocks fell back last night. That makes today one of my favorite days of the year. How delicious is that gift of an extra hour. I wandered between luscious laziness and productivity. Between making Manhattan clam chowder, a pear cranberry cake, baked sweet potatoes and a lamb meatloaf, I managed to read half a novel while snuggled up with Quentin on the couch, harvest leeks and herbs in the garden, catch up with my bad girl posse, do laundry and start setting aside some things for a family that is about to make a fresh start.
I wonder how you used your extra hour today?
It's been three months since our sweet little Maggie passed on. I still miss her terribly but I've passed the stage where I am doing things like taking two dog treats out when I come home only to realize I've got one dog impatiently waiting instead of two. Quentin, too, has moved past his grief and has settled into being the dog of the house. Sweets took him in to the vet for a check up a few weeks ago and they offered us a rescued chihuahua to replace Maggie. Obviously, there is no way to replace her and we think Quentin should live out his old age being pampered. Having one dog to wrangle is easier. We're more willing to take him out and about. Last week he got a nice new sweater and went for a walk on the beach. When I first got him in 1997, I was living three blocks from the beach in Asbury Park so we went to the beach regularly on our daily strolls. He seemed very happy to be back in the sand.
Having a portrait taken with my dogs was #7 on my 101 Things in 1001 Days list. Looking at this photo now makes me so happy I made sure that was one of the things I've completed. We took this image at the end of our road on a warmish Februrary afternoon in 2008. Maggie on the left, Quentin the right. She always had a knack for sticking her tongue out for the camera which cracks me up.
We're currently working on #72 on the list, putting together a photo display wall. This photo is going to make it up there.
The cooler weather has set us off an invigoration of the living room redecoration project that began in earnest at the beginning summer and then dropped like a rock in priorities as the garden needed tending. We made a trip to Crate and Barrel to use up a gift card left over from wedding gifts and decided to spend it on photo frames. We're going to put together a display wall over our funky vintage chaise lounge. When we got together the other night to go through our photos from the past few years, we discovered this photo we took of ourselves on the beach at Outer Banks, SC. How we completely overlooked it in the past, I don't know. Although I did use a photo of me from that day for a Self Portrait Challenge post. This is now our current photographic crush. I'm really glad we found it.
