Salad

Salads are great. The variations are probably as infinite as melodies. I derive all kinds of pleasures from creating and eating them—from the delight of seeing the wonderful mélange of colors of the ingredients to the actual dicing, chopping, slicing and what have you that go into their creation.

And let’s not forget the health factor. Fresh, organic ingredients—rich in vitamins and nutrients. Extra virgin olive oil--green liquid gold. Vinegars and mustards with taste variations as distinctive as fine wines. Each bite of salad is different from the one before, because it contains a different mix of ingredients, or in different proportions. So that in one bite—the tomato dominates. In another—it’s the tantalizing flavor of the mustard-rich dressing that coats a piece of cucumber.

And then there is the way salad looks and feels—with its variety of textures, shapes, and sizes. The way the flavors combine to create new ones, especially as you get near the bottom of the bowl with all those ingredients basking in the goodness of your salad dressing.

I particularly like salad bowls made of wood, because the swirls of the grain can be so beautiful. At the local Farmer’s Market I saw one once that had a turquoise inlaid in the wood. What joy to eat from a salad bowl like that. A work of art within one.

This salad is made from Romaine lettuce, green cabbage, Navy beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, beets, garlic, and onion. For the dressing I used extra virgin olive oil, red wine vinegar, and apple cider vinegar, along with freshly ground black pepper, cayenne pepper, turmeric, cumin, and Dijon mustard. No salt. The bite from the peppers and the garlic and the vinegars give it all it needs. All this topped with a can of sardines and a generous squeeze of fresh lemon. Very Mediterranean. Very good for the heart. And let me tell you--deelicious!

Feline

I watched a TV show about domestic cats some time ago and remember being struck by something the narrator said--that part of our (human) fascination with 'domestic' cats is the idea of having something wild within our midst. . . The cat is unattainable in that way. Which makes her all the more fascinating.

This Is Not A Dress Rehearsal

A few weeks ago, I was shopping at Ross and came across a purple bag. Italian leather, silver chain. Chic as all get out. Not surprisingly, the price tag declared a rather alarming $149. Now when you consider that the original price was upwards of $250, this new price was quite a deal. But when you also consider that although I'm picking up some contract work these days, I am still without "the job"--this price made me start thinking all those things we think about when the price tag is daunting. "I don't really need it," being the most common and probably strongest of them all.

An elderly woman saw me looking at my reflection in the mirror, bag slung sexily over my shoulder. "That's a great bag for you. Definitely your color." I brightened. Here was a complete stranger who recognized the affinity I had with the bag.

"But it's so expensive," I replied, feeling somewhere around 16 years of age.

"If you like it, get it. This is not a dress rehearsal."

I nodded and smiled. I held the bag a little closer.

"Do you know what I mean by that?" I nodded again.

"I'm 81," she declared, and it's all downhill."

We both continued wading through the bags. She was toting a colorful striped bag, which she displayed proudly. "It's fun, don't you think?" I told her I did. She nodded and started heading off towards the next aisle.

"Remember what I told you," she said.

"I will," I promised.

"What is it? Say it."

"This is not a dress rehearsal."

She nodded approvingly and disappeared among the shoppers.

I've thought about that statement. It was especially meaningful for me, I think, because of my experience as an actress. Dress rehearsal was important, but never as important as the "actual performance" with an audience in attendance.

Yet how many times in my life had I lived through events, encounters with other people, or even my own soul-searching as if it weren't quite the "real thing," as if that were coming later.

The most difficult of all these was the terrible ordeal of my ex-husband's death. One of the haunts that continues to torment me is that on some level I didn't take his death as actually taking place. Perhaps it was my mechanism to cope with the whole thing, but somehow it seemed he was kidding--that he wasn't really wasting away to a fraction of himself, that he wasn't really disappearing each minute of the day.

The reality finally struck, of course, when I received the news that he had died. But even now, sometimes, it's difficult for me to believe that he isn't going to turn up somewhere--with one of his comic lines, telling me it was just a rehearsal, that for now he's still here. I wish that would be. But I know it's not the case. Another reason for grabbing every minute, every encounter, every opportunity that seems right. You never know about tomorrow. You barely know about today.

Acres of Lavender

A golden bush amidst a field of lavender at Matanzas Creek Winery outside of Santa Rosa, CA. God's country.