To another Council of Equals

Last weekend our dear friends LG and B were married at the DC War Memorial. It was a perfect ceremony - laughter, tears, full hearts, and so much love. We were so happy to be part of their day and to support a wedding of two individuals who quite simply belong together. That the District (and increasingly, the entire country) allows them to marry legally is an important reason why we love living here. Get a load of this gorgeousness:

As their wedding date got closer, T and I spent a lot of time reminiscing about our own wedding, five and a half years ago now. In lieu of favors we donated to Freedom to Marry, which felt like a big deal in 2009. In 2014, it'd be almost passe, which is pretty awesome. Thinking about how much ground has been covered in the simple effort to make love legal makes me all kinds of happy. (I mean seriously - check out this chart!)

At the LG&B reception - tipsy on champagne and oysters, per the me+B tradition - I read a poem for them that was part of our ceremony, too. This is my ode (well okay, Alice Walker's) to two complete individuals joining forces and, rather than meshing into the ubiquitous and boring "one" that so many folks seem to romanticize, each becoming doubly awesome in turn. The world needs more awesome, more LG+B, and more councils of equals. That's a world where I want to be.

Beyond What

Alice Walker

We reach for destinies beyond 
what we have come to know
and in the romantic hush
of promises
perceive each
the other's life
as known mystery.
Shared. But inviolate.
No melting. No squeezing
into One.
We swing our eyes around
as well as side to side
to see the world.
To choose, renounce,
this, or that -
call it a council between equals
call it love. 

Friday I'm in Love

Oh weekend, you tricky mistress, you. I've managed to schedule a Saturday so full of activities that I really only have a one-day weekend ahead of me. That, plus the chance of SNOW on Sunday (#$%&E^@^!!!), means I'm already looking forward to next weekend. At any rate, here are three finds that tickled my fancy this week. Enjoy, and try to have a more restful weekend than I will!

Guys and Doll

 People are fascinating and weird and wonderful, you know? I read this piece about "The Digbys" and couldn't quite believe it. A couple "adopted" a doll twenty years and have been raising them as their "son" ever since... and oh, the places he's gone and the outfits he's worn! Please tell me there's film footage that someone's been recording all these years... this stuff is begging for a documentary.

Coralie Bickford-Smith

It's pretty easy for me to get swept away by great book cover design, and no one is doing that better these days than Coralie Bickford-Smith. Her designs for the Penguin clothbound classics series are renowned... and happen to be utter perfection in hardcover form. Her latest project takes us into the kitchen with Penguin's 'Great Food' series, which presents a dilemma... isn't it blasphemy to rip the covers off books, even if you're framing them in the kitchen as a large art piece?

"You Should Date an Illiterate Girl"

Via Her Name Was Lola, full text here.

Friday I'm in Love

Whew! Busy, busy, busy week. Let's get right to it, then.

Giddy Planner Alert

I do work for communities all over the country, but the work that means the most to me is when I get the chance to make a difference where I live. This week, I rolled up my sleeves and begin working with a DC community, as we kicked off a planning process for a project that's intriguing on a number of levels. Even though I'm far away in the news photo above, you can easily see that I have a big 'ol grin on my face, due largely to the totally delightful group that I was facilitating. Getting to know communities and helping them forge plans that best capture their vision is what I do best, and having the opportunity to do that in my new city makes my heart smile. (Nerdy community planner group hug!)

Rescued Baby Bats

I feel terrible for the flooding that's ravaging Australia, but how do I feel upon discovering the extreme cuteness that is rescued baby bats wrapped in blankets? Fantastic!

Healing after Tucson

The president, telling the crowd that Gabby Giffords had just opened her eyes. The crowd, cheering on the brave men and women who helped at the scene. The message, about how words matter, and about why love is stronger than hate. The good people we lost last weekend. The little girl inspired by democracy, with her entire life ahead of her. "She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism, vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted. I want to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as Christina imagined it." All this, on my mind all week long.

Eat More Collards: A tribute to Aunt Jill

My aunt passed away at her home on December 1. She had two memorial services: one in eastern North Carolina, close to the farm where she was raised, and one on the Outer Banks, where she lived and taught English for 20 years. This is the piece I read at both services.

Jill Adams Morris

1959-2010

“I'm a collard-picking, collard-cooking, collard-eating farm girl,” Jill wrote several months ago. That statement is so perfectly Jill: both grounded and full of action all at once. As someone who crafted a life as rich with small pleasures as with big ones, she knew we’d always remember what a fantastic mother and wife she was, what a special daughter and sister and friend she was, what a good teacher she was, and what a valued community member she was. Those are the big things. Those collards, though, are what made Jill, Jill.

And so while we’re eating our collards in her honor, we can recall some other moments that she embodied. Jill was a rocking porch swing, a belly-shaking laugh. She was arms reaching out to kiss her husband and hug her daughters and rub a dog, legs that took her to down to the beach and all around the farm, and hands that created music, that made quilts, that grew beautiful flowers.

Jill was joy.  She was about doing what you love.  She was so much fun.  And she was so, so brave.

When we search for Jill’s joy in our own lives, we can picture her windsurfing on the sound, gliding over the water, strong and full of life. We can recall her being chief storyteller wherever she went, rocking with laughter and lighting up everyone around her. We can laugh about her Ocracoke accent impression, which she did better than anyone. We can remember her pregnant with Sophie and walking up and down the beach in a pink maternity bikini, trying to convince her to come out already so the fun could begin. We can see her taking Sally for her first tractor ride, teaching Sophie to play the piano, going on adventures with Anna and Carter, and relaxing on the farm with Bob.

When we think about doing what we love, we can remember how much Jill loved books and words, and how she spent her career helping students love them, too. We can think about the quilts she made and gave to loved ones, the dresses and curtains and everything under the sun that she sewed with care and skill. We can think about her love of music and all the ways she expressed it. We can treasure how Jill represented the glory in small pleasures that can rival even the greatest things: an engrossing novel you couldn't put down if you tried, a gorgeous day outside, the perfect lily, a wry pun and witty play on words, and yes, that pot of collards that tastes like home.

Life was just more fun with Jill. She was fond of saying “The blessings are more bountiful than the burdens,” and she crafted a life full of things that made her smile. That attitude is what she’d want us to carry forward: Be grateful. Be kind. Laugh. Do what you love. Eat more collards. And also, be brave.

Because when we think of bravery, each one of us will always think of Jill first, and remember how valiantly she fought her illness. She was full of grace, brimming with humor, and always stayed true to herself. She was Jill Adams Morris, a “collard-picking, collard-cooking, collard-eating farm girl,” and led by her daughters and her husband, her spirit will be carried forward forever.

Pasta is Love

I love food, as we know. But if I had to name one just one dish that equated love to me? It would not, shockingly, be barbecue. Barbecue might be termed "heart," or certainly, "home," but not "love." Love, to me, is pasta. It always has been, and I imagine it always will be.

I have loads of pasta recipes. I have the pasta equivalent of a marriage proposal, of putting all your cards on the table: a three-page lasagna recipe that uses a different scrumptious sauce for each layer. It takes all day to make, and it will get any romantic job done. I have the sexy date at home dish: a red-hot vodka sauce that sears and soothes in equal measure. I have the first dish I ever made that snapped T's head around and left him begging for more: an earthy, spicy sauceless pasta with sausage, spinach, and crunchy breadcrumbs.

What I also have, though, are simple, steadfast dishes that please year in, year out, day after day, no matter the company. They're not special occasion dishes. They're everyday dishes that aren't made to impress, but to nourish and to share and to quietly delight instead. They're simple love, these dishes... which is so often the best kind.

Here, then, are two of my favorite everyday pasta dishes, and I'm finally including the recipes here, because, well... that's what one's supposed to do with love. Spread it.

SUMMER ORZO SALAD

Tangy, light, and cooling... made for warm-weather potlucks and leftover lunches.

• 1 pound orzo
• 1 container cherry tomatoes
• 1 6-oz package crumbled feta
• 1/2 cup minced fresh basil (or other herb)
• 1/2-1 cup champagne vinaigrette

Bring salted water to boil in large heavy saucepan. Add orzo and boil until tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain. Transfer to large wide bowl, tossing frequently until cool. Mix tomatoes, feta, and herbs into orzo. Add vinaigrette; toss to coat. Season with salt and pepper. Serve at room temperature.

Champagne Vinaigrette

• 1/4 cup champagne vinegar
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon honey
• 1/2 cup olive oil

Whisk vinegar, lemon juice, and honey in small bowl. Gradually whisk in oil. Season vinaigrette with salt and pepper.

SPAGHETTI CARBONARA

Adapted from Ruth Reichl ... and as tailor-made for man-friendly (and kid, I'm sure!) weeknight salvation as she advertises. I love eating leftovers cold for lunch. 

• 1 pound spaghetti
• 1/4 to 1/2 pound good bacon
• 2 whole cloves garlic, peeled
• 3 large eggs
• Black pepper
• 1/2 cup grated Parm (plus more for the table)

Directions

• Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook spaghetti. While the spaghetti is cooking, cut the bacon crosswise into small pieces. Put them in a skillet and cook for 2 minutes, until fat begins to render. Add the whole cloves of garlic and cook another 5 minutes, until the edges of the bacon begin to get crisp. Don't overcook, because if there's too much crispiness the bacon won't meld with the pasta.
• Meanwhile, break the eggs into the bowl you will serve the pasta in and beat with a fork. Grind in some fresh pepper.
• Remove the garlic from the bacon pan. If it looks like too much fat to you, discard some, but be judicious - you want to toss the bacon with most of its fat into the pasta. If this bothers you, this isn't the right dish for you.
• Drain the cooked pasta and immediately put it into the beaten eggs. Mix thoroughly. The heat of the spaghetti will cook the eggs and turn them into a sauce. Add the bacon with its fat, toss again, add cheese, and serve.

Quotable: Barbara Kinsgolver

(Auto-published while I'm off galavanting in Europe ... thanks, technology!)

One of my all-time favorite authors. A woman of wisdom, this one.

Quotable: Alice Walker

(Auto-published while I'm off galavanting in Europe ... thanks, technology!)

A poem from our wedding ceremony. So suited to the two of us: independent to a fault, romantic but not naive, and above all, partners.

Quotable: Mark Twain

(Auto-published while I'm off galavanting in Europe ... thanks, technology!)

My very favorite quote. To me, it speaks to the wonder of humanity, the interior worlds taking place inside of every single person we pass on the street, and the fact that nothing is ever how it looks. I like people. This is why.