Food, youngsters, and—taxes

Since finding an online recipe for beans on buttered toast (was it Sam Sifton’s column in the New York Times?), I have been obsessed with the idea. Somewhere in my past, I’ve eaten that and loved it, but nobody in my family or circle of friends recognized it until Jeannie today said, “Oh, I ate that as a child.”

Yesterday on his day with me, Jamie spent a good deal of time cooking a pot of beans. He had soaked the beans the night before and brought an onion, garlic, and bread to fix them for our lunch. The bread was Wonderbread which his daughters like, whereas the recipe calls for a hearty peasant bread—Jamie’s bread did not standup to the beans, but otherwise the lunch was delicious. Beans being beans, I was afraid to have more than one helping but I loved it and am lobbying for it for supper tonight. Try finding the recipe on Google.

Today in Sifton’s column I found a recipe for miso-grilled scallops. It had a good explanation of umami, that fifth taste that always puzzles me a bit but was described there as “delicious.” Hmmm. Maybe I should do another cookbook just because I’m having such fun with recipes..

Plentiful goings and doing at the cottage—in addition to Jamie, the physical therapist came yesterday and put me through my paces, left me with instructions for exercises that I can do without difficulty—4 times a day but they only take about 5 minutes. She’ll come twice a week.

And of course, Jamie all day and a caregiver until three and Jordan’s friends Mike and Marty who brought a yummy supper of chicken and zucchini. Sophie loves it when there’s a full house at the cottage, and so do I.

Today, an outing—went to lunch at Carshon’s, the deli that is a favorite of mine, with Carol who is so good as to load up me and my wheelchair and take me to lunch. Good time, good visit—and I came away with a wonderful idea. Carol prepares their taxes for the accountant on a spread sheet. I’m no genius about spread sheets, always thought them generally a nuisance—I once had an employee who was spread-sheet-nuts and wanted to turn everything into one. Bur I can master a simple one. Tonight, I whizzed through several categories of items and felt truly accomplished. Sigh, still a long way to go. But thanks, Carol, for the idea.

Tonight was ‘50s night at Cotillion, and these ten-year-old boys rolled their T-shirt sleeves and slicked back their hair for the event. So adorable.

The words that come out of our mouths

The other night I was talking yoga with a friend of Jordan's, and said I did my yoga routine alone in the sunroom. My neighbor walked up and said, "Why don't you go to class?" I retorted, "You know I don't like to go out!" The minute I said it, the words echoed in my head. They weren't exactly what I meant--I don't like to do yoga with a lot of other people, and I don't want to deliberately take the chunk out of my day that it takes to come and go.
But did I really mean it? I love people, I feed on company, and too much time alone makes me a tad depressed. But as a friend said to me, "You don't go out. You bring people to you." I've long been aware of a tendency toward reclusiveness that lurks in me, even though I love to go to small parties, restaurants with friends, etc. Increasingly I don't like to go out alone.
Almost forty years ago I was housebound by agoraphobia--sometimes defined as a fear of open spaces but best defined by me as a fear of fear. Phobics gradually draw the circle more tightly around them--the limits of where they'll go get closer and closer until one day you just don't go. If you don't understand panic, you'll have to trust me on this one--I  understand it too well. I spent years pushing back that circle, enlarging it.
But recently I've felt it closing in a bit, and especially during the two weeks I had whatever I had. I stayed home--and pretty much liked it. So when I heard those words--at a party significantly in my own comfortable "safe" house--I knew it was time to start pushing back again. Jacob got caught in my push and we went to church yesterday (once you're out of the habit of going, skipping church gets easier and easier). He tried mightily to talk me into leaving before the sermon, but I insisted and he went grumpily off to the children's sermon. I was glad I stayed because the sermon was good and the music glorious.
Today I had errands to run but found myself contemplating putting them off. That's when I got high behind, dressed and set off to Goodwill, liquor store, grocery and cosmetics store. A bit conscious of myself as I did those things (am I anxious or not?) but I did them. And each small step is a victory. This week, I will make it a point to get out of the house every day.
I'll get my balance back, and my circle will grow. Many people have problems so much worse. How can I complain?