And Now... Coming at You From the Crescent City!

Last Saturday, after a month in Florida, we headed "home" to Memphis.

But, wait, there's more! This week, I'm writing to you from New Orleans. Funny thing, it rained every day that we were in Florida and then, surprise, our first day here in NOLA... rain.

When Tariq and I were married in Pakistan, it rained on the day of our wedding even though it hardly ever rains in December. It was then that I learned that rain is considered auspicious and a blessing in Pakistani culture. Even if it keeps you from the beach the entire time you're in Florida or results in your having to roll up the cuffs of your jeans when you bring groceries into your brother's house in New Orleans. 

Front Row on the Fourth. Also, trifles.

As a result of our escape from suburbia that landed us in a high rise, it took us approximately 45 seconds to get the best seats in the house for the Mud Island fireworks. Right before that, thought, as for me and my house, we served a blueberry and strawberry trifle that was supposed to be red, white and blue but ended up being red, white-ish and purple.

Blueberries, cream cheese filling, fresh strawberries

According to 98% of the individuals surveyed regarding the trifle, it was a success. Notable exception was my daughter who declared the blueberry filling to be something she wasn't "crazy about." My dear, anything that doesn't make you crazy is definitely something I'm committed to making again.

Once I realized that the blueberry part was going to more purple than blue, I abandoned the notion of creating a replica of the American flag. Okay. In the spirit of George Washington (recall sketchy apple tree story) and Abraham Lincoln (they called him "Honest Abe" despite lack of sketchy apple tree story), I cannot tell a lie. I got lazy and crazy with the strawberries.

If you want the recipe for a patriotically inspired dessert, just use this this one from the food network. I ditched the almond extract because I never use that and I'm not buying an ounce when all I need is a teaspoon. I also used apricot preserves and those sugary pearl things as a garnish. Sugary pearl things were left over from Eid last year.

These things don't go bad. Hopefully.

Did you make or do anything special this past week? Also, has anyone else driven over a 3500 miles with their family in the last five weeks?

Lyrical Life: Home

I mentioned that it gets dark fairly early here, but I didn't mention how much the cold is getting to me.

I don't like the cold. I have a theory that I'm not anthropologically suited to it having most likely descended from nomadic desert peoples.  Or I'm just a huge baby. This past Wednesday, when I left our building, I exclaimed, "It's beautiful out here!" and then found out it was fifty degrees. I'm officially losing my Florida blood and becoming a Midsouth person.

I know it sounds strange, but that moment felt significant to me.

Y. and I headed over to the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art that morning after depositing N. at the venue for her holiday show rehearsal.  My two year old son and I quietly walked through the museum, and had interesting conversations about shields and bad guys and flowers.  Then, I came across a tiny exhibit called "Pines to Palmettos: Florida Landscapes of Walter R. Locke."

I walked past the understated etchings of places near or similar to the place where I had grown up, and I suddenly missed that the trees were probably still green there.

And I missed the sandy soil that we tried to grow things in.

And I remembered the way you could get away with wearing flip flops until the first week of December.

And, man, I missed my mom.

And, then inevitably I thought of all of the places I had taken for granted because they were always going to be there.

There's a clock tower in Daytona proper that has been there ever since I can remember.  When I was a girl, I would play around its steps with my brother while my parents walked up and down the boardwalk or sat on a bench and watched us.  When I was a teenager, it was where we would sit for a few minutes to figure out what we were going to do that evening after spending the day at the beach. When I was in my 20s, it was a place I would sometimes visit just to clear my head.

And then I just sort of forgot about it.

Until now.

Florida still feels like my home. In the midst of a "beautiful" 50 degree morning, home momentarily slipped away from me.  It's ridiculous, but I feel disloyal.

We're all here together, and that's enough to make me happy... but I still feel like we're not home.

Home still feels there. I wonder if it always will.

Daytona Beach, Florida -- Clock Tower at the Boardwalk

You know how the time flies
Only yesterday was the time of our lives
We were born and raised in a summer haze
Bound by the surprise of our glory days...

Nothing compares, no worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

- Adele, Someone Like You

Local Spirit

You've probably heard about the benefits of buying "local" produce just as much as I have.  Which is a lot.

There are loads of arguments that are convincing.  They have to do with health, economy, the environment and unicorns living forever.

Since our move to Memphis, we've been visiting the Memphis Farmer's Market every Saturday and buying interesting fruits and vegetables.

I've eaten some tomatoes these past few weeks that would make you weep sweet tears of joy, my friends.

But this local thing, I think it goes beyond economy and environment.

I feel like we've become very accustomed to manufactured experiences.  Maybe we're losing touch with one of the most fundamental aspects of our own reality as humans.

Stuff changes.  Life isn't predictable.

Or, basically, life is a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get.

(Thanks for that, Maa-ma. You're a reeal smart, laay-dee.)


Places like Super Target, Wal Mart and other businesses based upon delivering packaged results seem to work in opposition to this basic truth.

Manufactured experiences push us to feel secure in the knowledge that no matter where we are in this country, we're always going to have the same experience.  This is great on paper, but it seems to be teaching us that environment and fulfillment of expectation dictate security and comfort.  If you know what to expect, you feel safe and comfortable.

If you're safe and comfortable, well, you're more likely to buy groceries and a throw pillow.

This is problematic for me because, as I see it, we aren't here on the planet to buy things and a sense of security should operate outside of environment and fulfilled expectation once you reach a certain age.

Security is being firm in one's knowledge of their own values and, at the same time, a personal ability to adapt, even if the environment, food, colors, people, languages or scenes change. I do, by the way, realize that this is a definition that's mostly specific to nations that are politically and environmentally stable.

I'm enjoying the local businesses and produce of the Memphis area.  This place makes me feel that, for the first time in a long time, I'm experiencing a real life and not a manufactured experience in which someone has 32 seconds to say hello to me before they get some sort of demerit.  If that's an alien concept to you, you have never lived in the Orlando area.

Sometimes people in the stores and stalls here are super friendly.

Sometimes they're rude.

Sometimes they're meh.

No matter where I've gone, though, it's always real.

Saturday Special at Our House: Homemade cream cheese spread on baguette with tomato, arugula and cucumber salad & sugar melon (not watermelon) ~ all purchased at the MFM