AfricanKelli

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Like I’m starting a new school and in typical Type A/nutty fashion, I have my work bag packed and my outfit ready for tomorrow. How cute is that birdie bag with a new pair of Keens? I am slowly transforming into an REI happy hippie girl.

Tomorrow I walk to work, like I did in high school when I occasionally got grounded from the Hornet and had to hoof it to the tortilla factory. I walked to work at The Lumberjack and certainly did plenty of walking in the five months I managed to tough out farming in Cameroon. I can’t adequately express how happy I am that I hung up my concrete jungle driving gloves today. Driving on the highway in the city ranks right up there on my fun-meter with getting a cavity filled or changing a tire. Not to mention, I just read the average American driver spends $9,000 on car maintenance, gas and payments a year. Sweet mama, that is a lot of cash. Of course tonight on my way home, there was a big decision-affirming crash within a mile of my house and I sat on the freeway in 111 degree heat. Phew. So glad tomorrow I’ll be walking through that sauna and not sitting in it.
That said, I am having a bit of panic with this change, even though it was a long time coming. It hit me this afternoon — five years I’ve worked for the same trusty employer and tomorrow I start all over with day one. I’m currently practicing deep breathing and hoping to muddle through the exhausting nonsense that is a panic attack.
The internal dialog goes something like this:
Stomach: Gurgle
Heart: 118 beats a minute sitting down
Brow: Sweaty
Mind: What the heck is going on? I am freaking out. Why am I freaking out? Stop freaking out!
Lungs: Hyperventilating
Mind: Okay, get a grip here. Don’t listen to your heart pounding. Focus on your happy place. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe!
Heart: BOOM BOOM BOOM
Mind: This was the right choice! New adventure! New fun! You can do this! STOP FREAKING OUT.
Stomach: ROAR!

So, I did one of the most relaxing things I could think of — I got a pedicure and then went shopping at my financial arch nemisis.
New shoes for the new walk, and they were on clearance — plus I had a trusty dividend to burn. Got to love a great deal on something you’d already had your eye on.
New shoes on feet, heart calming, breathing easier. Tomorrow will be groovy. If nothing else, my feet will be rockin’. I could buy a lot of shoes with $9,000…

~K

My friend Peter had a birthday when I was in Africa. While I managed to bake for AJ and Gregg’s summer birthdays — the other two in the Bagel Boy Trifecta — I completely forgot Peter. Ouch. Thankfully I made it up to him this morning with a tray of snickerdoodles, per his request.

I used this recipe and they were a hit. Honestly, I think Peter was almost more thankful for the peanut butter brownies I baked as a distraction for AJ. With chocolate on the table, Peter didn’t have to worry about sharing his cookies.

* Breakfast of champions — unless you are in China, and then your Olympic glory also comes with a side of smog. Yikes.

~K

Healthy summer dinner, post spin-class: sweet potato with garlic and salsa and a colorful salad. I found a new way to prepare sweet potatoes without having to turn on the oven. A rice steamer! I added a couple cloves of garlic and set it for 60 minutes. By the time I came home, my dinner was ready and my home was still cool.

The one thing I miss more than any of my other pastimes when I travel, perhaps with the exception of swimming, is the opportunity to cook. In Africa, there was staff tending to our every need and I never had a chance to get my hands dirty in the kitchen. I returned to a stack of Cooks Illustrated, Bon Appetit, Shape, Sunset, Country Living, and Real Simple. By the time I’d recovered from jet lag, the pile of recipes pulled from these issues towered, varying from homemade marshmallows to fig and arugula pizza.

Obviously it is time to strike up the band and get my friends over for another community dinner. The invites went out this week for the next soir√©e when, at last, I’ll get the chance to throw on an apron and give a few of these new recipes a whirl. I’ve also set aside a few I know my parents would love; I fondly remember New Years Eve several years ago when I begged my mom to let me cook a family dinner. (She isn’t fond of having others in her kitchen.) I made garlic mashed potatoes and introduced my brother and parents to the sheer heaven that is crumbled blue cheese over a medium-rare petite fillet. We enjoyed a nice Shiraz, good bread, a hearty salad and I’m sure there was something sweet for dessert. My brother still talks about that meal and when he does, I get a little giddy. There is such pleasure in feeding those you love a great meal.

I booked a ticket to Texas this week to celebrate my dad’s birthday next month. Rather than go overboard with consumerism, we often treat each other to small, thoughtful gifts. Cashews, Swiss cheese, dark chocolate and green enchilada sauce are at the top of my dad’s favorite food lists. I’m sure he’ll enjoy all of these at some point during the visit. Now, if I can just talk my mama into letting me get her kitchen dirty, I can embark on preparing a feast or two.

Regardless of where I am in the world, if I can cook I feel at home. I bring my culture with me when I can prepare meals for others. I never thought I’d be so happy behind an apron.

~K

There are few nice things in life that bring pause. My first pair of great designer jeans, which I still wear with love four years later, were well worth the investment. My first nice handbag, a gift from Emily, I carry six years later. Again, so worth the expense (especially considering it wasn’t mine). It has held up well, is a classic shape and color and I adore it. Kitchen tools fall into this train of thought too. I have few things from Williams Sonoma, but those I do hold up beyond belief and I’ll probably be using them to bake cookies for my grandchildren one day.

I have a new addition to this luxury column: Debbie Bliss yarn. I’ve never splurged on really nice yarn before and didn’t in this case either. John, Emily’s fab hubby, sent this to me in the fabulous yarn package. I’ve started knitting Christmas projects and this yarn makes it so, so much fun. The texture feels nice in my hands and the yarn holds up so much better on the needles. I know this project is going to be beautiful because the “ingredients” were top notch.

This is more fuel for my new consumerism motto: Buy less. Love what you buy.

~K

But what if I should discover that the enemy himself is within me, that I myself am the enemy that must be loved – what then?
–Carl Gustav Jung, 1875 – 1961

A friend emailed me this quote today and it fits perfectly with my current state of mind. My weekend was exactly the right balance of rest and productivity. I made several trips to drop of donated items, clearing my home of more clutter. Deep, unexpected naps (as in I woke up hours later with a book on my chest mildly confused at what had just happened) left me refueled and excited for the week. I ran to my heart’s content and spent a good bit of time drooling over my new dream bike. (What better way to spend that REI dividend?)
There was also time to organize those fabric remnants and get a big project started. I hope to turn these pieces into several scrap quilts to be gifted to friends getting married and having babies this Fall. I enjoyed trimming each of these pieces and remembering why I bought the fabric in the first place. I now understand why my mom has always taken such pleasure in quilting with scraps. You are pooling creativity from dozens of projects to form one final burst of color.

~K