Finding your way

"Excuse me, ma'am," he offered as he nodded toward the window. I didn't notice until I stood to let him pass and he tucked into the seat next to me. The lower half of his leg built by cosmesis rather than what he was given at birth. He wore his standard issue fatigues but the pant leg on one side revealed an artificial limb. His persona seemed old soul. And the fatigues and limb would lend an older, more seasoned appearance than his face ever could. He didn't look old enough to buy cigarettes.

We were flying to Seattle from Atlanta. He had recently returned to the US from a third consecutive tour in Iraq. This time, with a permanent injury coupled with an honorable discharge. As we shared a conversation, I was astounded at the level of calm and ease he used to talk about the real-life scenarios that seemed brutal and surreal to me. When he revealed he had just turned 22, I sensed the formidable sadness in his voice that his "career" as he hoped it would develop, was terminated.

It wasn't the loss of part of his body that disenchanted him, but that commitment to the Armed Forces had been prematurely disrupted. His willingness to serve, to stand, to sacrifice could no longer be engaged by the United States Military.

I asked him how he maintained not only the enthusiasm to rise to be assiduous every day in such an extreme environment, but also the belief that the war was the right action in the grim and very real face of death. He said he everyone doesn't. War and the caustic realizations of what it truly means is not the same as reading about it in the news. But he felt he had no alternative. Once you enlist, you are committed for life. He followed with, "Or until you have no choice," indicating his leg.

I certainly could not compare notes or offer anecdotes about "I know how you feel." My greatest imagination could not conjure up what a single and real day in that environment would be like.

"How do you feel about returning home?" I asked.
He was contemplative before answering, "A little lost."

Death could have taken him. Another name on a long roster that goes beyond this war into every corner of every country. While he did sacrifice a limb, he certainly never forfeited his valor, or his ambition. And hopefully that ambition would become bigger, and broader to help him navigate his way. A way beyond feeling irrevocably displaced.

In baggage claim at SeaTac, I saw her before she saw him. The face washed with what only comes from holding your breath for three tours of duty. The look of impatience and searching superimposed over a very real foundation of frantic. She could only be at peace perhaps when she could see him, and hug him with her own arms. When she saw him, she pulled on the arm of the man with her. He couldn't get to the boy fast enough. His son.

When he introduced me, I saw in his parents the awe of having their child back. They were proud. And they were relieved. And the force of it made me relieved for them. A force I would not even begin to appreciate in some microcosmic way until I had a child of my own.

Tomorrow is Veteran's Day in the US. Originally called Armistice Day in 1919, the day intended to recognize WWI vets. The holiday changed to "All Veterans" in 1945. And this holiday is pertinent to almost 30 million veterans in the United States. I have my own opinions about war, and its cost. But the freedom that affords me to have and vocalize such opinions was freedom paid for by people willing to go to war. And I have gratitude for that gift.

At 22, Corporal Foster was the youngest veteran I had ever met. Wherever you are, I hope you are finding your way.

Thanks AND giving

First: Thanks.

Thank you for the great response to guest posting. Very honored by your comments and emails. Stay tuned this week for the outcome.

And now: Giving

November turns the corner into one of my favorite times of year for cooking. With holiday soirees and family parties, I have plenty of reasons and opportunity to experiment in the kitchen. And it serves as a great time to review my favorite cookbooks and explore new ones.

And one fantastic cookbook is from The Food Network. With over 250 recipes from one of my favorite networks/sites, this cookbook has great tutorials and photos accompanying recipes ranging from lamb to baked eggs with farmhouse cheddar. And don't say you were never inspired to learn to strip lemongrass. You can show all your stripping skills after you read this book (and I do mean the lemongrass!)

So I am sending a copy to one of you. Leave me a comment by Friday and once again, we will employ the magic hat to produce a winner. The magic you create after that is up to you... good luck.

Take A Bite Of: Ricotta Cheesecake

the easiest cheesecake you will ever make. This, using ricotta instead of cream cheese, is still rich but has a much lighter texture. Martha Stewart knows her baked goods. From her Baking Handbook comes this delicious vittle. Buon Appetito!


Ricotta Cheesecake
Ingredients:
Unsalted butter, room temperature, for pan
3/4 cup sugar, plus more for pan
1 1/2 lbs. fresh whole milk ricotta cheese, pureed in food processor until smooth
6 large eggs, separated
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
finely grated zest of 2 lemons
1/4 tsp. salt

Directions:
Preheat oven to 375. Generously butter and sugar a 9-inch Springform pan. In a large bowl, whisk together the ricotta, egg yolks, flour, 6 tablespoons sugar, zest and salt until combined, set aside.

Place the egg whites in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment; beat on low speed until foamy. With the mixer on high, gradually add the remaining 6 tablespoons of sugar, beating until stiff and glossy, 3 to 4 minutes.

Using a rubber spatula, fold a third of the egg-white mixture into the ricotta mixture until combined. Gently fold the remaining egg white mixture until just combined. Pour into pan and bake until center is firm and the top a deep golden brown, about 1 hour.

Transfer to a wire rack and cool ten minutes. Place another wire rack on top and invert cake to rack to remove from pan. Reinvert cake and cool completely, top side up. The cheesecake is best eaten the day it is baked but can be refrigerated, covered loosely with plastic wrap, for up to 3 days. Let sit at room temperature for 20 minutes prior to serving.


Top with fresh fruit, dark fudge sauce, or berry coulis. And even amazing plain!

This speech is my recital

Actually, this poem is my recital. After my tiny tenure at Cambridge I did some traveling throughout Europe. Incredible doesn't begin to explain it. This is something different than I usually post, but I wrote this upon returning to the States.

Untitled

I walk through flowered courtyards of
Dancing shadows of prior love

who hand in hand beneath stained glass
caressed on beds of gentle grass

This fortress quiet, so divine
stood strong and solid over time

to all of those preceding me
who came to live, to love, to dream

and promenade in stone hallways
and languish in the sun-filled days

all along the river clear
I can almost see them standing here

with peace so deep and hope so wide
in this English countryside

I cross the river's Bridge of Sighs
memories do cloud my eyes

all my recent yesterdays
keep me in a daydreams haze

I've touched paupers, princes, kings
dreamed alive a thousand things

my soul, she does feel wonderful
for what's become a ritual

on rooftop watched as punters crept
passion shared while Cambridge slept

hearts ignited and burned for sure
as pipers played in Edinburgh

sunlight streams on meadows full
while pale eyes did search my soul

toward the sky a hopeful call
that goodbye would never come at all

where baths were swirling, steaming, wet
on lips the softest kisses set

sultry nights, peppered black
with moonlight pouring down my back

I danced in Barcelona's streets
laid where sand and ocean meets

serenaded as a stranger sings
inspired by what morning brings

catch the glances, stroll along
cathedral plays her mid-day song

Climb to top of spiral stairs
a balcony is hidden there

I admire the cities graceful frame
he looks at me and says the same

stolen moments in fountain's park
gorgeous gardens still and dark

where new lovers come to meet
wrapped in Verona's midnight heat

longing looks that seem to beckon
last a lifetime, gone in seconds

fantasies becoming real
all around the Glockenspiel

Oh to live in perfect ease
magic blows in German breeze

on castle terrace, through the gate
two hearts hold their breath and wait

when tomorrow wakes to shine
they'll sail down the winding Rhine

to a farewell when they reach the shore
for fate has not allowed them more

walk the path the Seine does run
poetic words roll of the tongue

under Trocadero's looming grace
Romance built herself a place

seems long ago, a few months time
etched forever in the mind

to where clocktower stands guardian
bliss does both begin and end

delicious secrets no one knows
as the circle is slowly coming closed

filled with angels and sinners both
giving peace and forcing growth

oh to live these days again
with perfect moments hidden in

wishes could not have better planned
young woman held in Europe's hand.

JennyMac

Was Clark Kent onto something?

Yesterday I had an unexpected break before I needed to pick up MiniMac. Already in the car but past the gym, I decided to hit one of my favorite parks for a run in the gorgeous 70 degree weather. Gym bag in the car but no place to change. No problem. I am sure many of you know, most women can discretely change from a ball gown to a swimsuit and back fairly easily and quickly. I pull down a residential street. The street is deserted so I proceed to change clothes in my car. While I see not a soul in sight, I still don't lollygag. Perhaps I should have.

I went to the park which was chock full of other runners and got 3o minutes in before time to fetch MiniMac and return home.

Only at home do I catch a glimpse of the reason I should have perhaps taken more time.

Since I use lipstick that apparently lasts for 225 hours, it was not exactly the ensemble I would normally don for afternoon exercise.

Dark red lipstick: check

Black bra still on under white sports bra and white tank top. And oh so very visible: check

Pearls around neck: check

Just another jogger or a budding call girl? I know its the former but it certainly looked a bit like the latter. The only thing missing was beadhead and smeary black eyeliner.

Note to self: Clark Kent likely used the phone booth walls as a point of reflection when he donned his garb. Little spot check might be a good idea next time.

Be my guest....

Through this blogging process, I have "met" some really incredible people. You and your blogs cover the gamut of topics from art to aerodynamics, food and fashion, sex and sass and virtually everything in between. And I love the mix. I enjoy reading so many of your blogs, and would love to change my occupation to Full time Blog Reader. Thank you for your contributions to such a positive experience not only for me, but for so many other people.

JohnnyMac and I have a rather fun escapade on our horizon and I thought it a great opportunity to close my laptop one day next week and invite you to open yours as a Guest Blogger here at Let's have a cocktail.

The topic is your choice. Do what you do best.

If you are interested, leave a comment here before Saturday am. I will pick one of your names from my fabulous magic hat. And then I will roll out the virtual red carpet.

Looking forward to a new twist on this cocktail party.
JennyMac

Red means stop

Before I get started, go visit my friend PJ's blog for her awesome holiday kick-0ff giveaway. What is the prize? Fab gift card to Amazon. I have started my wishlist already.

Now, down to business.

As I wheel around this over-saturated city of mine, I use music (and absorption of sunshine when available) to increase the odds of a pleasant commute. I must inculcate patience as an ongoing process and what better place to practice than the car, especially during traffic.

While I may be quick to point out foolishness on the road, I am quite congenial about letting other cars in. You know what I mean. A car needs over into your lane, or needs to cross in front of you whilst you have plenty of space to let them. I rarely see a benefit of being one car length further up the road, so I am very welcoming when other drivers need a little room to budge. Do not dare pull in front of me all jackass-ish and uninvited, but by all means, if you see the courtesy hand wave, come on in.

I need the same courtesy numerous times a week, and often, people are gracious to give it. You know who is not gracious? The wretched woman behind me Friday. Let's discuss.

I am driving down Peachtree and see the red light ahead. I stop sooner than needed to let a car out of an office park. No one is moving, believe me, I am far from creating a traffic jam.

Suddenly, I hear a long and labored horn honking. In fact, I heard so much horn honking I think perhaps there was real danger looming. I look in my rear view mirror, and evidently, the woman behind me in her large truck, wanted to send me a message. Well, unless that's Morse Code you are tapping, I can't decipher. So be a lamb and let's just dial down on the volume, ok?

Perhaps she had cloudy pupils rendering her incapable of seeing the large red orb hanging down above the street a mere 80 feet in front of us, but red means stop.

I gave her a friendly wave because at that moment, it seemed fun. And there are only so many hand gestures available. Then the show began. In addition to the horn honking jamboree, she was waving her arms madly. Charades? I would love to play.

Is there a bee in there with you? No? Oh, you are a baby monkey climbing a tree? Wrong again.

Ohhh, I know! Orchestra Conductor!!!! No?

Mime in Central Park? Hmm.

Oh, an ass? YIPPPEEEEE! I knew I would finally get it.

And by the way, when you do that, hold that horn down for oh, 10 seconds at a time, that does not fluster me even a morsel. And did you flip me off? How very Corey Feldman of you.

So I did what any nice driver would do (especially one planning on making a point). When the light turned green I had two options. Move ahead which was clearly what Angrylina wanted me to do. OR, I could NOT move along. As the cars surged ahead, I now had even more room to be a good Samaritan so I let a few more cars out. It was the end of the day after all, and there was a line of about twenty cars waiting to exit.

And as I patiently let a few sneak out, each one waved, and I waved back. All the while treated to a concerto of Ford Motor Vehicle Horn.

The point is, we had to stop for the light anyway so don't be ridiculous. And thankfully, she stopped honking. Much more and I would have had to stop for a cocktail. Come to think of it, she likely worked up a thirst with that flailing arm workout and was in desperate need of a cocktail too.