Cooking the NYTimes and Other Assorted Retirement Activities

A faithful reader pointed out there was not a recipe in the Motherhood post.  I could say it's because mothers shouldn't be cooking on Mother's Day but it was because I forgot. This is a recipe we're having tonight.  Very fragrant and an easily done, which, as far as recipes go, is one all mothers need in their hip pocket. Mongolian Beef Ramen 1 lb. sirloin steak, sliced against the grain 2 T corn starch 2 T vegetable oil (I used olive oil) 1 T sesame oil 3 garlic cloves, minced 1 t. minced ginger 1/2 c soy sauce (I prefer the reduced sodium variety) 1/4 c brown sugar 1 c chicken or beef broth pinch red pepper flakes 1 large head broccoli, cut into florets 1 carrot, peeled and cut into matchsticks 3 pkgs instant ramen, flavor packet discarded** 3 green onions thinly sliced Toasted sesame seeds 1. Cook ramen noodles** according to package instructions.  Drain and set aside.  (If you don't have ramen, a thin spaghetti noodle also works), 2. In wo...

Not unlike how the incandescent blue sky ever so softly fades, hues bursting first as fireworks, then spreading across the horizon, melting into the mellowness of pastel Motherhood Moments of extraordinary pleasure or pain and often melded, enduring efforts to be erased; rather etched into memories that seep out when least expected Motherhood Tempests tossed then calmed with a soothing touch tempered by patience honed into strengths of character by unimaginable yet all too real depths of love Motherhood Steps forward for years, followed by shuffles backwards from the launch, not adrift, rather admiring from the space where lives have been nurtured and guided and now take their own shape to discover paths where the colors and shadings of the sky are reminiscent of those when the merger was so strong it was often impossible to decipher where one began and another began and then, oh so suddenly, the separation was nothing if not clear, as if gazing to the sandy bottom of the m...

We're winding down our two month stint in Belleair Beach, Florida.  During the daily beach walk(s), I've been using these last few days to reflect on our time here. I suppose the best thing I can say is that we're already signed on to return next year.  The place where we've stayed, a townhouse in a small development called Los Caracoles (the snails) that fronts the Gulf of Mexico, has been, as my sister who is a realtor down here calls a real find.   (In fact, on a walk the other afternoon, Hank discovered this snail on the property.) Next year the unit is available for 6 weeks rather than 2 months.  We'll make due.  I can sit on the patio and look out at the Gulf; listen to the waves at night, which have more than once lulled me either to sleep or back to sleep; and in about 73 steps,give or take a few, be on the beach.  We are simultaneously spoiled and blessed. The time, like the Gulf, ebbs and flows differently depending on what is g...

As a child, I loved to receive mail.  Back in the day, the postal carrier would deliver twice a day during the Christmas season and I remember begging my mother to be the one who would open the cards.  When I was in college, my maternal grandmother would occasionally send me a letter, complete with newspaper clippings of articles she felt were important.  Sad to say, I didn't keep any of those.  But I remember the excitement of checking the collegiate mailbox and finding mail in there! Christmas cards, with the accompanying annual letter, remain a big deal for me.  I have composed a newsy tome for many years--don't remember how many--and once we had children, first added a photo to the card before switching over to the photo card.  Once during the holiday season, after all the cards have arrived, I spend an afternoon re-reading the letters we have received, making mental notes of what has been going on in our old friends' lives.   More than ...

Greetings and salutations--or should I say, pawlutations?  JK. I'm Hank, Mary's (the author of this blog), beagle and today is my 11th birthday.  We thought it would be fun if I put paw to keyboard and blog about my life with Mary and her spousal unit, Dan, while they're in Florida.  Since typing is quite challenging, I decided to mostly post pictures.  Isn't that what humans say, a picture is worth a thousand words?  In the dog world, a smell is worth a gazillion words but for today, we'll go with pictures. First, this gives you an idea where they got a place for me to stay in Florida. There is a sign that says No Dogs Allowed on the beach, but Mary took me on just for a minute.  I discovered I like it and now, whenever they take me out, I head right for the beach.  There are birds and water to chase there and talk about the smells!  WOO HOO! You might be wondering what I do all day, since I can't go on the beach.  Here's an ove...

My oldest daughter, Molly, who has been visiting with her two preschoolers, commented yesterday that I hadn't posted lately.  Laughing, I reminded her that I've been otherwise occupied. We've been in the true Magic Kingdom of Making Memories. Now, we're staying only 90 miles from the theme parks in Orlando.  My nieces have referred to me, but mostly their mother, as a Parkaholic.  True, even at this distance, I not infrequently hear the siren song of the Tower of Terror calling my name.  Last year, we caved in and spent a very enjoyable day at Universal Studios (both parks so we could ride the Hogwarts train between them).  And we're here until the end of the month, so anything could happen, For the past 4 weeks, we have been blessed with family company.  First our daughter Maggie, son-in-law Pete and their daughter, my darling Georgia Rose were here.  Unfortunately, and not unlike the rest of the country, Florida was in the midst of a cool ...

Perhaps you remember this song by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young . Yesterday afternoon I called my friend Jeanie to check in.  She answered from the March for Our Lives in Des Moines, Iowa, where it was snowing.  Big, wet flakes. I'm embarrassed to say that I was sitting by the pool overlooking the beach, not marching.   In reading all the accounts of the March and watching the coverage on TV, my overwhelming emotion was one of pride about how our young people have stepped into the breach we adults have left them.  And even as I post this blog, I am not convinced we have taught our children well.  We have left them to fend for themselves and they are ferociously wrapping themselves in clothes of their own weaving.  They look us straight in our hooded, downcast eyes.  Stop it, they say.  We know better--the anthem young people have been singing to their elders for generations and generations.  Children of the 60's believed this with...