Loaves & Fishes

Michael and I shop or do take-out almost every day for lunch or dinner.

If we purchase groceries too far in advance, food gets wasted, or worse, we risk getting sick.

Things either rest safely inside our freezer forever hidden among the bits of frozen bread and bags of frozen vegetables in 'the land that time forgot' or are kept in the refrigerator, stored appropriately in plastic or glass containers, often without labels and 'sell by' dates. Or what we do have that's fresh and ready to eat, by mealtime no longer appeals to us.

So we shop or do take-out almost every day for lunch or dinner.

When shopping for groceries, we either wander the aisles looking for ideas, clueless about what to eat, or know exactly what we crave and dart between carts and customers at record speed as if on a mission... grab 'n go'.

Today we're in Whole Foods on such a mission.

There's a pound of antibiotic free, hormone free, ground beef sitting in our refrigerator ready to turn green if not cooked today or by the latest tomorrow. If we can locate a jar of mild 'Liberty City Chili', some homemade cornbread and a small container of 365 Organic Plain Greek Style Yogurt, nonfat and less calories than sour cream and just as good, we'll be home free... Mission Accomplished!

But there are no jars of 'MILD' chili anywhere... just 'HOT'... cough, cough.

Busted we move to Plan B: Burgers.

We head to the bread aisle for a bag of ultra soft mini potato buns, but we're told they are all sold out. A new shipment will be in tomorrow, but tomorrow doesn't help today.

So we carry on with Plan C: Cheese

Well not just cheese. Since we already have the ground beef and plenty of boxes of De Cecco Thin Spaghetti no. 11 at home, we're hoping to pick up some grated Parmesan cheese and butter beans from the olive bar to compliment a meal of spaghetti and meatballs. So what are the odds of nabbing these two items today? Apparently, 0:0, zip, nada, giant goose egg, zero! Okay, so neither the cheese nor the beans are crucial to the dish, but hey... we weren't exactly married to the idea of pasta in the first place.

So in a last ditch effort it's Plan: D

Dump the ground beef for one more night and go with... whatever!

Only 'whatever' isn't making itself known to us.

'Mission Impossible' is now 'Mission Aborted'.

Defeated, we decide to head home where Michael will do magic with leftovers and I'll have a bowl of Trader Joe's High Fiber Cereal and Organic Valley Lactose Free, Fat Free Milk or some 365 Brand standards, Organic Salt-Free Peanut Butter and Organic Strawberry Conserve on Unsalted Saltine Crackers, my go to food by default.

But just as we're ready to leave...

I spot a stack of baguettes on the counter in the bakery department... and they're warm! Fresh from the oven!

Most unusual as most of the French and Italian loaves of bread are kept at room temperature... cold, stored upright in vertical bins, hard and crusty on the outside, sometimes just as hard and crusty on the inside. Not today and probably never again, will these loaves ever be as wonderful.

I grab some goat cheese and a jar of fig preserves both in eye shot while Michael chooses Seaside Cheddar (cheese from England) and then takes off for organic produce.

I find him in the seafood department waiting for some salmon to accompany his intended side dish of melted cheese on toast topped with spinach and tomatoes.

I stand next to him in front of bins packed with ice that hold whole fish... the shimmery silver kind with heads, bodies, tails, intact and sad eyes that appear glazed.

Fish doesn't appeal to me, but they sure are mesmerizing this little seven-year-old boy, who managed to wedge himself between the bins and me. Instantly, I'm reminded of Walker Evans, his photograph titled: "Roadside Stand Near Birmingham, Alabama" and his words:

"Stare. It is the way to educate your eye, and more. Stare, pry, listen, eavesdrop. Die knowing something. You are not here long."

"Roadside Stand Near Birmingham, Alabama" by Walker Evans

Staring long and hard, the boy turns to his father and quietly asks, "Daddy, can I have fish for dinner?... some Tilapia?" You could tell dad was proud. Hey, a boy who knows fish by name and knows how to eat healthy, I'm impressed. But not so impressed when the boy's younger sister, sitting in a cart, shouts out for the entire Baederwood Shopping Center to hear... "DADDY! I WANT McDONALDS!!"

"Maybe she'll order the Filet-O-Fish," I say encouragingly, while 'Fat Chance' is written all over dad's face.

I was raised on McDonalds... McDonalds and Swanson TV dinners.

Truth is... our family didn't have money to burn.

My father's mantra was either..."HOW MUCH does that cost??" or "What do you need that for?" Either way, his words always managed to kill my desire to buy anything. On the flip-side, when it came to food, my dad was a VERY generous man.

On weekends, he'd go to Waldbaums for fresh bagels, lox and whitefish. Then stop at Bambi's Bakery for a box of assorted pastries: jelly-filled powdered donuts, bear claws, and Danish topped with fruit or filled with cheese. This was breakfast.

For dinner, he'd drive the distance to Zorn's for a large bucket of the best ever fried chicken and containers full of potato salad and coleslaw. On special occasions, we'd go to a restaurant, Italian or Chinese, where my brother would deliberately order the most expensive item on the menu, making my dad cringe without any comment.

During the week, meals consisted of take-out hamburgers and fries from McDonalds, TV dinners baked in the oven, or food prepared by my mother, usually frozen minute steaks, directly from the freezer into the broiler, twenty minutes on each side and a side of potatoes.

  

Other than potatoes, I don't recall eating vegetables or cooked fish, but what kid would remember except maybe the seven-year-old at Whole Foods Market.

I think it made my dad happy to be able to provide for us and put food on the table, something I still appreciate to this day.

My dad retired early. I'm glad he did. He lived a brief life of just 57 years.

In the book I'm reading by Tom Shadyac, 'Life's Operating Manual: With the Fear and Truth Dialogues', which asks what's wrong with the world and what can we do about it, there's an interesting parable about a man who lived in a cottage by the sea... 

Every morning the man went fishing and caught just enough fish for the day. Afterward, he would spend time playing with his son, take a siesta, and enjoy lunch with his family. In the evening, he and his wife would meet friends at a local bar, and they'd tell stories, play music and dance the night away.

One day a tourist saw the fisherman and his meager catch and asked, "Why do you only catch 3 or 4 fish?"

"That's all my family needs for today," the  fisherman replied.

But the tourist had gone to business school and could not help but offer advice: "You know if you catch a few more fish and sell them at the market, you could make some extra money."

"Why would I want to do that?" the fisherman asked.

"With the extra money you could save up and buy a boat. Then you could catch even more fish and make even more money, which you could use to buy an entire fleet of boats!"

"Why do I need so many boats?" queried the fisherman.

"Don't you see? With a fleet of boats, you could sell more fish and with the extra money, you could move to New York, run an international business and sell fish all over the world!"

"And how long would this take?" the fisherman asked.

"Maybe 10 or 20 years" the businessman said.

"Then what?" The fisherman said.

"Then you could sell your company for millions, retire, buy a cottage by the sea, go fishing every morning, take a siesta every afternoon, enjoy lunch with your family and spend evenings with friends, playing music and dancing!"

For now, Michael and I shop or do take-out almost every day for lunch or dinner. Other times we enjoy dining in restaurants.

Food is a necessity. For some, it can also be a luxury and a pleasure. From food stamps to four-star establishments, we've lived both lives.

Sometimes life is easy, sometimes hard, sometimes profound and sometimes straightforward like ... a jar of 'MILD' chili... temporarily unattainable.

~ May food always be readily available to you and plentiful on your table ~

What are some of your favorite foods, food routines or dining experiences?

Here are a few links you might find interesting:

"Loaves and Fishes" a poem by one of my favorite poets David Whyte here.

'Big Appetites' by artist Christopher Boffoli viewed here.

'Cheese Portraits' by artist and friend Mike Geno here and an article about him titled: "Like the Mona Lisa, but on a Cracker" here.

A short written history of the TV Dinner here, with a short video version here and a British take on it here.

Cool Food Facts here.

Here's to Those Who Make a Difference.

Philabundance

Our favorite non-profit organization whose 'Mission' is to 

'reduce hunger and food insecurity in the Delaware Valley

by providing food access to people in need,

in partnership with organizations and individuals'.

A brief behind-the-scenes look at Philabundance here.

XOX... Dyan

Death & A Bicycle

"Ice Angel" by Dominic Harris and Cinimod Studio

Growing up, my parents gave me anchors when really all I wanted were wings. Free to fly, to do, and just be... playful, creative, and carefree.

That much has not changed, only it's life and age that ground me now.

Presently rooted in old routines with little adventure, I long for days light as feathers.

I once believed that God gave us shoulder blades so when we died we'd sprout wings, turn into angels, and fly to heaven.

Pretty deep for a kid raised in a family where religion was rarely spoken.

I rarely talk about death anymore, but think about it often. Though maybe not as often as some, like actor, writer, director, Woody Allen, whose obsession with mortality has made him famous with lines like these:

"In my next life I want to live my life backwards. You start out dead and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old people's home feeling better every day. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go collect your pension, and then when you start to work, you get a gold watch and a party on your first day. You work for 40 years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You party, drink alcohol, and are generally promiscuous, then you are ready for high school. You then go to primary school, you become a kid, you play. You have no responsibilities; you become a baby until you are born. And then you spend your last 9 months floating in luxurious spa-like conditions with central heating and room service on tap, larger quarters every day and then Voila! You finish off as an orgasm!"

My view of death is much less sexy and far more encompassing. It's about loss, those big and small. Not only the cessation of life, but also of things: a home, a job, separation from friends and family, the cancellation of a favorite television show, the closing of a nearby bookstore, the inability to do things that were once easy.

It's been many decades since I was a child, rode a bicycle or had my knees forever covered with band-aids.

I've been told that once you learn how to ride a bike, you never forget. But knowing and doing are very different things.

I know that as I lay in bed with ice packs on both legs, a sore arm and aching back, I may need to rethink the idea of owning and riding a bicycle. At first I wanted one for practical reasons for exercise and transport, but now realize it was probably more about the desire to relive my youth and enjoy the pure sense of freedom that comes from having both feet off the ground and one's hair blowing in the wind.

"Forever Bicycles" by Ai Weiwei

But it's precisely the act of both feet off the ground that created this mess in the first place.

Make that... second place.

The first place was in Target when I decided to test out a cute yellow Schwinn cruiser. I thought I'd give it a whirl down the aisle, but slid off the seat and crashed into a display rack.

Michael, my husband, stayed calm but concerned then matter-of-factly said, "That doesn't exactly bode well."

I wasn't discouraged. I attributed the mishap to slippery pants and a poorly assembled bicycle seat. The price was right, but the fit was all wrong.

The second place, the cause of my current aches and pains, took place in front of a friend's house. Lu had just bought a used Diamondback bicycle for herself and wanted me to try it for size and take it for a spin. Only I had never ridden a bike with speeds and hand brakes and didn't expect to spin out of control down a hill with little friction between the tires and the road. I did manage to slow down fairly well, but once my foot failed to touch the ground squarely, both the bike and I tumbled onto a grassy curb, which thankfully softened my fall. Remarkably, I wasn't shaken or hurt, though I'm feeling the effects a day later. I even got back on the bike for a second try, but just barely managed to stay upright.

As much as I'd love to glide through the air and feel the momentum of moving forward, being able to stop and remain still... is equally important.

Just look at me here... happy, confident, and perfectly balanced on two pedals while wearing a dress.

I'm curious about the dress, but baffled by the hand gesture over my heart. 

Maybe I was pledging allegiance to our country, swearing something on my honor or praying... not to fall down. Your guess is as good as mine.

I do remember the bike. It was a hand-me-down from my cousin who for some reason hand-painted it white. It wasn't pretty, but I got pretty darn mad the day it was stolen from our porch.

My second bike was a Schwinn, brand new and blue. It lasted for years until my brother decided to take it apart to see how things worked, or in this case... never worked again.

That was the last time I thought about a bicycle until now.

Bruises hurt, but not being able to accomplish what I set out to do hurts more.

Riding a bike shouldn't be this hard.

For some reason I seem unable to pick up where I left off... as a teenager cruising down the block on a bike, which was more like an extension of myself, rather than on foreign machine parts that attack!

'The Road Not Taken' can be a difficult one.

Jon Rawlinson

Giving up on mastering a bike would be more than disappointing; it would be another loss to endure. I live to ride again... once the bumps and bruises subside and I find a bike that fits and functions perfectly for me.

Until then, I'm grateful I don't drive. I'd hate to think of the damage I could do on the road with a huge chunk of metal the size and weight of a car or even a motorcycle.

Motorcycle as in a Vespa? Ooooo...'Wings On Two Wheels'!

Imagine... me with both feet off the ground and hair blowing in the wind.

Guess if I can dream it, I can do it... ride a bicycle that is.

.......................................

Purchasing, owning, riding, trips or tips... please share some of your bicycle experiences.

Here are a few links you might find interesting:

Ice Angel project by Dominic Harris and Cinimod Studio here.

Ai Weiwei's installation titled: "Stacked" viewed here and a video of his installation  titled: "Forever Bicycles" seen here.

Robert Frost's poem 'The Road Not Taken' here.

Sheryl Crow's video 'Everyday Is A Winding Road' here.

"Philadelphia Woman Finds Her Stolen Bike Via Social Media" here.

'Bike New York' uses an interesting method to teach youngsters (and me) how to ride a bicycle here.

To Our Friend

Christopher 'Robin' Hood

A Lover of Motorcycles and A Great Auto Mechanic

August 25, 1952- August 6, 2013

We Will Miss You

XOX... Dyan

Comfort & Clothes

Everyone has style.

Whether it's good or bad, is a question of preference.

Whether it's known and understood, is a question of time.

Time has shown that my style can be stated in two words: authentic comfort.

Taken from Carrie McCarthy & Danielle La Porte's book, 'Style Statement: Live By Your Own Design'... "Your Style Statement is a compass for creating a life that reflects what's true to you in every way. From your wisdom to your wardrobe, from your longings to your living room, your Style Statement is where your essence meets your expression."

And at this intersection of 'essence & expression' for me, lies comfort.

It was Billy Crystal's character Fernando who said, "It is better to look good than to feel good", whereas I prefer to FEEL good, go bare-faced with the exception of lipstick, wear clothes that shout Casual, Comfort, and Cotton with capital 'C's' and to pray for good looks.

I don't wear... frocks with frills, dresses or skirts, belts or buckles, patterns or prints, stuff stiff or scratchy, or anything tailored or tight like these...

Instead my garments are soft, loose, unstructured, solid in color, and totally inappropriate for any occasion other than lounging.

But who lounges at a wedding? Make that two weddings.

The invitations arrived by mail just days apart... one requiring cocktail attire, the other garden party apparel, neither of which gave an option to 'come as you are' or wear any old thing that you've got.

Richard Abell aptly said, "Anxiety is the space between the 'now' and the 'then'".

So do I 'now' RSVP with the words 'joyfully accepts' and 'then' remain anxious and frustrated until the day of the weddings as I shop for clothes that don't fit, don't flatter or feel right, or do I 'regretfully decline' and get on with my life in the land of comfort and bliss?

Have you ever noticed how the sun rises and sets and darkness prevails, until you're inside a mall clueless to the time or day? Accidents happen, people die, babies are born, new planets are discovered, and there you are in a time warp standing in a fitting room while your husband holds your purse and searches the department for another pair of pants either a size bigger or smaller than the ones you have on. That is of course if you hate to shop like me and are lucky enough to have a saint of a husband like mine.

Fortunately, I also have fabulous friends with good advice and great intentions who feel my pain in this arduous search for something to wear. 

Lisa offered to take me shopping. Denise shopped without me and found a simple dress with a hint of lace she thought I'd like then captured and forwarded it on her ipad.

Carol, a fashionista in her own right, suggested: basic black for a cocktail dress made dressy with a colorful scarf or jewelry, fashions by Eileen Fisher for lines simple and classic, and 'Zara', the Spanish brand, for something inexpensive but stylish.

Bev offered to lend me a fancy scarf from her huge collection, photographing and emailing the ones she thought I'd like. Later she sent me a link to HSN.com of a dressy jacket she purchased for herself and was willing to drive miles to model it so I could see and feel the material to know if it was right for me.

Then there's Joe who brightened by mood by wanting to meet for lunch and afterwards be my seeing-eye dog through urban storescapes alive with possibilities of colors, textures, fabrics, styles, for all tastes. Then added, "When the goings get tough, the tough go shopping!"

And if I was no longer up to the challenge of shopping, he offered me his 'top of the line Italian suit' saying he thought,  "A woman in a man's suit is quite fetching."

I suppose I'm to blame for this situation of marathon shopping when I could have been casually building a classic collection over time rather than a few short weeks. But just one look at myself in a full-length three-way mirror sets me back years. And all the effort spent building on strengths and appreciating my talents is gone in an instant... along with my sanity and everything I've said about being authentic and the need for comfort.

Ralph Pucci Mannequins

Besides... "Dressy' doesn't come in cotton.

Polyester prints and patterns with ruffles and sequins have touched my skin and while I minded terribly at first, I'm now way beyond caring. I've shopped 'til I've dropped and I'm ready to surrender.

To add insult to injury, these words by Mark Twain... "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society" have worked their way into my head.

I say, "Men and women make the clothes. Sometime the clothes are good and sometimes they're gaudy." And for the bit about naked people and their lack of influence on society, I'm baffled, but certain that if I showed up nude to either wedding, it would have a great affect on the 'party' particularly the bride, the groom, and their parents.

Ralph Pucci Mannequins

It's a scary thought... one that definitely has me reconsidering the white t-shirt I've been waving and the need to do battle another day.

So it's on to the boutiques, but with a back up plan in place.

It's kind of a secret... sort of a 'Victoria Secret'.

Only it started in Target... when I spotted and purchased some dressy-looking, silk-like pants, black, flowing and made of cotton modal.

I found them in... shhh!... please don't tell... the lingerie department of all places after an exhaustive first day of shopping.

In a pinch, with a black t-shirt, a dressy scarf or bold colorful necklace, and some spiffy shoes, this pieced together outfit could 'fit the bill'.

And get this... the pants are LOUNGING PAJAMAS!

Who lounges at a wedding?

Perhaps... "I Do"

Do you have a style that could be described in two words?

Comfort or confinement? How do you feel about clothes shopping?

Do you have a special story or memory that goes with a particular item of clothing?

Here are a few links you might find interesting:

Photographer Ted Sabarese's 'Hunger Pains' here, the making of 'Hunger Pains' here, 'Office Wear' here, and his blog here.

For a different kind of album, 'Wedding Attack' photos here.

The 'Rainbow Brite' and 'Asymmetrical Silhouette' are quite interesting. 'Ugly Wedding' dresses shown here.

'Love, Loss and What I Wore', a lovely little book excerpted here and a brief interview with the author Ilene Beckerman here.

For those first anniversaries (paper)...  'pencil' me in.

XOX... Dyan

Philosophy, Art, & Ideas

An 'Original' Idea...

Is it possible to have one, or has everything new and fresh been done, said, blogged about, 'YouTubed', gone viral, or already been published?

Is there anything unique left to be imagined, or is everything simply a reference, done with a twist, to something that exists or has previously existed?

It's not a trick question... more a philosophical one... like... 'Which is more powerful, love or hate'?... or 'Is the glass half empty or half full'?

Our glasses were definitely full. Bev ordered an iced tea and I chose to drink water with lemon.

What more could we possibly discuss over meatloaf and chicken salad sandwiches after spending nearly two hours on the phone chatting and making plans for this little get-together, when I was handed this newspaper article.

The headline read... "Wise Beyond His Seven Years", about a boy, a second grader, named Jack Smalley, who won a certificate, medal, and $25 in a philosophical slam contest for his winning answer to the question: "Which is more powerful, love or hate'? It's amazing that someone so young, with such little life experience, could produce the winning entry. In Jack's words... "Philosophy's not hard. It takes a lot of thinking, but that's pretty much all it takes."

This article was all it took to get our conversation going.

Soon I began talking at length about two recent exhibitions I saw: one by Emily Spivack called 'Sentimental Value' at the Philadelphia Art Alliance (May 17-August 18, 2013), about items of clothing acquired from eBay and the noteworthy stories and memories that go with them, and the other by Judy Breslin called Haiku/QR (June 7-July 6, 2013) at the LG Tripp Gallery, of brightly colored stickers of QR codes embedded with her poetry, placed throughout the city, then photographed. Both shows were about words and stories, both very interesting.

Then I posed my philosophical question: Is it possible for someone to have a totally original idea? Perhaps these two art shows, which seem at first unique, are merely modern day versions on the telling of stories that have been around since the cave paintings of Lascaux. Bev's answer to my question was immediate, a definite, "Yes!" My opinion is 'No' and that I'd die a happy person, if in this lifetime, I could come up with an original idea of my own. Honestly, it's not that easy.

I'm always questioning my ideas: Are they unique? Are they significant? Are they worthy of someone else's time and attention? The more I question, the less I create. If a quarter of what I've produced in my head was made, rather than discarded before a brush ever stroked the canvas, I'd probably be able to fill both 'the Whitney' and 'Museum of Modern Art'. Either I'm a born conceptual artist or someone loopy with too many thoughts stuck in her head.

With my head in need of rest, once home, I grab a book never before opened, purchased from a library book sale, intriguingly titled: 'Beg, Borrow, Steal: A Writer's Life', by Michael Greenberg. The first paragraph read...

"MY OLD MAN was like Zeus's father Cronos: he couldn't bear the idea that any of his children might surpass him. Life radiated from the central pulse of his scrap-metal yard; the world beyond it seemed to make him defensive and nervous. Self conscious about his lack of formal education, he took my bookishness as a personal affront. "Which do you think is worth more," he once asked me, "a commodity or some goddamn idea"?

Like the question of the chicken or the egg and which came  first, can a commodity exist without an idea at its inception?

Lunch may be over, but apparently the philosophical questions are not.

Ideas: Borrowed? Appropriated? Stolen" or Original?

Interestingly, quite a few people share my view:

T.S. Elliot said, "Immature poets borrow, mature poets steal."

Natalie Goldberg remarks on copying...

"We always worry that we are copying someone else, that we don't have our own style. Don't worry. Writing is a communal act. Contrary to popular belief, a writer is not Prometheus alone on a hill full of fire. We are very arrogant to think we alone have a totally original mind. We are carried on the back of all the writers who came before us. We live in the present with all the history, ideas, and soda pop of this time. It all gets mixed up in our writing."

Austin Kleon's take on where artists get their ideas...

"Every artist gets asked the question... Where do you get your ideas? The honest artist answer is "I steal them." First you figure out what's worth stealing, then you move onto the next thing. That's about it. When you look at the world this way you stop worrying about what's 'good' and what's 'bad'-there's only stuff worth stealing and stuff that's not worth stealing."

From Austin Kleon's book, 'Steal like an Artist' are these two quotes: one by Jonathan Letham who said, "When people call something 'original', 9 out of 10 times they don't know the references or the source involved.", and from the French writer, Andre Gide..."Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But since no one was listening, everything must be said again."

And quoted from Anna Held's book, 'The Blank Canvas', a recollection by Jacques Lipchitz... "I remember one day when Juan Gris told me about a bunch of grapes he had seen in a painting by Picasso. The next day these grapes appeared in a painting by Gris, this time in a bowl; and the day after, the bowl appeared in a painting by Picasso." 

'Ex nihilo nihil fit'... Latin for "nothing comes from nothing". Even the ancient Greeks believed that things could not disappear into nothing, just as they can't be created from nothing.

And with nothing more to say... What's your take on the concept of 'original' idea? Is there a question rattling in your brain that needs answering?

Here are a few links you might find interesting:

The newspaper article, "Wise Beyond His Seven Year's" Here.

Emily Spivack's show here and from her website 'Sentimental Value', a story about a bridal gown for sale on eBay here.

Judy Breslin's solo show here and the latest on 'Why QR Code Poems Cause Conflict in Philly's Old City" here.

Austin Kleon's blog here.

Interview with sticker street artist Curly here.

More sticker art from 'Tag This Philly' here.

Appropriation or downright plagiarism... Lady Gaga is sued for $31 Million here.

Keep thinking and always....

XOX... Dyan